A Breach In Time
by Spyke1985
Summary: This is the story of Fen'da'len Lavellan, a woman who has lived it all before, only to be tossed back to live through it again. Will she be able to change things for the better, or will her actions ripple out into time and disrupt the future in cataclysmic ways? Only time will tell. Either way, she refuses to live in the dark, this time.
1. Chapter 1

She wakes in barred shackles, her back stiff, knees and legs aching, head pounding. She thinks this the extent of her damages, when suddenly, her hand feels as if it's trying to split itself apart. She cries out and claps her eyes on it, a glowing, angry scar on her palm that flares sporadically with energy unknown.

Except she does know this energy. She's intimately familiar with it, in fact. She stares at it in abject horror. She had thought herself done with this curse. The creator of it was long gone, as was the object that had branded it into her skin to begin with, shattered and lost to time. Time... wait. Why was she in shackles?

The clanging sound of the cell door opening resounded in her ears as it echoed off the bars and walls of her cage, her ill-adjusted eyes looking up to see none other than Cassandra and Lelianna walking through the door, the guards surrounding her sheathing their swords as one and standing at attention. Cassandra is angrier than she remembers, she can see the rage and pain in her eyes as the seeker she knows so well closes in on her menacingly.

Cassandra circles her, leaning in to press the question close to her ear, an intimidation tactic. "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," she straitened, her voice shaking with a mixture of rage and grief as she continued, "The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." She watches as Cassandra points an accusatory finger at her once more, just as she had before, well over a year ago now.

She has to gather her wits, and quickly. How she is here again, why she was sent back, as shocking, disorienting and _insane_ as it may be, these questions can wait. If this is real, her life is in immediate danger, and she must answer properly, or face death.

"What do you mean, 'everyone's dead'?" she asked, remembering how she'd answered before, barely in the nick of time.

Cassandra grabs her left hand, lifting it. "Explain _this_."

Just as before, she can't obey the seeker's order. There was no logical explanation for the mark before Adamant, before... him.

She barely kept herself from shuddering as her mind provided fodder for the flame that nestled in the open wound he'd left on her soul. Every time it found fuel, it singed away one more tiny piece of her.

"You're lying!" Cassandra shoves her, providing a welcome distraction from her thoughts as her mind focused sharply on the task at hand. Good, yes, this is what she needs. Getting distracted by... _that_... is not a good idea right now.

She manages to convince Cassandra once again that she intends to help. The shackles are removed, replaced by rough, thick rope. She could burn through it, if she wished, but she won't. She knows all too well what is about to happen.

The rope is cut. The journey begins.


	2. Chapter 2

There are demons everywhere.

The rope has long since been sliced from her wrists, and as Cassandra charges one of the demons, Lavellan spies the staff that was left there before, abandoned by the mage that had held it before. She picks it up and defends herself just in time from the demon the Cassandra doesn't see behind her, saving herself with a few well placed sparks of energy summoned from the Fade. When the battle is over, when Cassandra demands she disarm, she huffs and shakes her head.

"I don't need the staff to protect myself. I haven't used my magic against you yet, have I?" She watches as Cassandra realizes the truth of her words, sheathing her sword and nodding in solidarity.

They fight through more demon hordes, drawing ever nearer to the first rift, to the place where her destiny is decided. She shudders as she remembers who they will meet there.

Across the lake, through more demons, up the small hill and they throw themselves into the fray once more. She casts her sparks at the first demon she sees, willing it to arc out to the next target, and the next, singeing the air and Faded flesh alike; leaving the smell of burnt skin and ionized air in its wake.

The fight ends abruptly, her wrist is enclosed in a vice-like grip as her marked hand is flung toward the waiting rift. She needs no instruction, but she allows the intrusion regardless, just as she had the first time. The rift closes with a crackling boom, throwing her arm out of his reach as they are pushed back by the force of the closure.

She turns to face him, pain in her eyes. She watches his relieved joy turn to a confusion that flickers across his face for but a moment, gone in the next instant. Introductions are made. She wastes no time asking questions to which she already knows the answers, moving things along as quickly as she can so they can get to the breach.

Chancellor Roderick makes his accusations and demands, reaching out in desperation to fling the blame on the first person he can. He is angry, but she understands it this time. She wishes now that she had Cole's aptitude to help and make others forget. She would help Roderick now, if she could.

They head to the breach with a direct charge. No point in wasting any more time. For now, she trusts him at her back. For now, she has to.

The vision, when it comes, shows her the true events, unclouded by her previously lost memories; she wonders for a moment if they will see the same vision. They do not. What she wouldn't have given for them to see the truth right then would fill a thimble. But the fates are cruel.

She has to suppress the ridiculous urge she has to laugh when the pride demon exits the rift. His very name means pride. That should've warned her from the start, but she was never one for paying heed to the warning signs.

The battle rages on and a few times she doesn't pay enough attention to the minor demons, taking a few hits more than she did the first time as a result. He notices, casting a barrier over her, despite needing it just as badly himself. She turns and smashes her staff into the demon pestering her, driving the sharp crystal end through the demon's eye. It withers and melts into the ground. She turns and delivers a volley of bolts into the thick scales of the pride demon, doing little more than pissing him off further.

Finally, the last blow is struck, the demon falls. She turns and puts every ounce of concentration into the mark, funneling her own reserves of mana into it as she tries to close the rift. She knows it won't seal the breach, but perhaps she can give them some extra time, now that she understands how the mark works. If she can just put enough into it...

The rift closes, knocking them back predictably. But it's the explosion of aftershock when energy shoots up towards the breach and hits it that knocks them all flat. Her head hits something hard on the ground as she falls.

The last thing she feels is thin fingers on warm hands flowing with healing energy as they check her for injury.


	3. Chapter 3

She wakes with a gasp, her eyes meeting the wooden rafters of the ceiling above her bed in Haven. She brings her hand up to her face, her fingers wiping the sleep from her eyes as she sighs, unwilling to accept that she is still here, still trapped in this nightmare of the past relived.

A gasp and the clattering of a small object falling to the ground makes her instincts kick in, jerking herself upright to see the elven serving girl standing there, agape. She listens to the words tumbling out of the girl's mouth, compassion and sadness tugging her heart as she remembers that the girl does not survive the retreat from Haven.

"_Ir abelas, Lethallin_. I did not mean to startle you."

She watches as the girl falls softly to the ground, her head bowed low almost in worship, begging the 'Herald's" pardon. Lavellan shakes her head and slides off the bed, touching the girl's shoulder.

"No, please stand. You are not below me, _falon_. No-one is. I thank you for the respect, but you need not dirty your knees on my account. Please, let Seeker Cassandra know I am awake, if you would. I shall be along shortly."

The girl nods eagerly, giving a smile Lavellan thought should be seen more often, "Of course, right away, Ser. Thank you."

Lavellan smiles as the girl turns to go. She sighs heavily as the girl closes the door behind her and sinks back onto the bed, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her head in her hands. She knows it will be but a few minutes before Cassandra seeks her out herself if Lavellan doesn't go to the Chantry, but she needs a minute to herself. She feels she might break if she doesn't have it. It will be the only moment to herself she will have for the next year.

She remembers all that happens, every little mission, every object she retrieves, every conversation she's had. What went wrong? Why was she sent back? How? Surely Alexius' magic didn't have consequences that far into the future? She ponders what had happened the day she suddenly found herself back in Haven's dungeon once more. It had been an average day, nothing out of the ordinary, really. She'd saved the world a few weeks prior, was recovering from the last few scrapes she'd won in the victory against their enemy, nothing exciting.

She'd gone to bed and cried herself to sleep.

Like every night since...

No. Not again. She couldn't think of that. Not right now.

Regardless, there was nothing unique about that night. No flashing lights, no green time portal; she hadn't even begun to dream yet.

She sighs and stands; she is out of time to wonder. She tucks away the dread she feels at being here again, at looking into the eyes of every single person she will fail to save. She looks at the tiny mirror on the wall, schooling her features into the neutral bewilderment she remembers feeling on this day so long ago. Or, at least, a close approximation of it. Good enough to fool the average onlooker.

She reaches the door and pulls the latch, opening it and closing it behind her, turning to face the crowd outside her temporary dwelling. The soldiers salute her, the people behind them talking in hushed whispers until they catch sight of her, then turning to stare before remembering to lower their heads in respect. She walks down the path between them silently, trying not to look too closely at the faces. She doesn't need to see one that will make her resolve falter. Not yet.

She makes it to the Chantry doors, hefting them open and letting her eyes adjust to the dimness within quietly. She breathes in the scent of incense and burning candles as she heads towards the far door, hearing the sounds of an argument already in full swing behind it as she nears. The first time, she'd listened for a few moments before walking in. But she knows what this is about. She pushes the door open and strides in, taking in the looks of flustered Roderick, annoyed Cassandra, and the cool, neutral Leliana.

Threats are conveyed, the founding of a new Inquisition soundly announced by Cassandra, and Lavellan shakes her hand, agreeing to join them. Again.

Once more, the journey begins.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So now that we've caught up, things are going to slow down. A lot. This one's a lot longer, though not all of the chapters will be this long. I just... couldn't stop. **  
><strong>Anyway, enjoy. Let me know how you're liking the story. Or if you aren't. Or don't. I'm not gonna beg. :)<strong>

Translations(basic):  
>Falon: friend<br>Ir abelas: Very sorry  
>Tel'abelas: Not sorry<br>Ma'serannas: I'm grateful  
>Shemlen: Quickened, used to refer to humans, or non elvhen in general.<br>Garas: Come, beckon, follow  
>Atisha: Peace<br>Hamin: Relax. Used together they basically mean 'calm down', or 'chill out'. Also "sleep peacefully", if used as Hamin atisha.  
>If I missed any, let me know. I got these from the wiki. That might not always be the case. ;)<p>

* * *

><p>It all seems so surreal.<p>

She's spent the better part of the past two weeks in the Hinterlands, gathering resources and running errands for half the countryside. Today she wants a moment for everyone to relax. No missions today. No gods-blasted rifts to close.

She walks around Haven, watching people working, listening to the never-ending recitals of the Chant of Light, scoffing and shaking her head quietly. While she doesn't entirely disagree with the chant, she hears it so often that it's lost most of it's poignancy for her. And she doesn't believe in the Maker.

She knows the gods of elvhen lore exist. The gods her people have worshiped for thousands of years. While they were wrong about many things, they were not wrong about that.

The voices from the well still speak to her just as strongly as the day she drank from it. And even if they didn't, she knows one of those gods is standing quietly by the apothecary's hut, probably looking up and shaking his head at the hole in the sky.

She wonders what he really thinks about the Breach, what his hidden thoughts are on the hell he unleashed on the world? Not that he personally tore the hole in the sky; she doubted he would've chosen that fate for Thedas, no matter his motivations. But it was his foci, that he let slip from his grasp, which caused all of this.

And this time, she is no longer an ignorant elf from clan Lavellan. This time, she is armed with the wisdom and knowledge to speak to him, if not as an equal, then at least not as a child; fumbling to understand, to grasp the nature of the things he speaks to her of.

She wanders to the gates, swinging them open to stand watching Cullen training his soldiers. She remembers flirting with him at first the last time, until the mystery of the elf in simple clothing had caught her eye. She realizes now that simple facade is yet another of his tricks, a means to blend in. Even his endless fount of knowledge about everything under the sky was shielded by him, with the thin disguise of his claim to having learned it all in the Fade. What a load of wolf shit.

She'd been too blinded by love to see it the last time. Even the voices of the well hadn't revealed his treachery to her before it happened, because she had never thought to ask until it was too late. After, she asked. After, they told her everything.

She'd sought him out in the Fade then, seen the vision of him stealing the power of Mythal, her lifeless husk collapsing to the ground under his watchful gaze. She'd gasped, the tears spilling from her eyes as she watched him turn sharply in her direction, though she was never sure if he'd actually seen her or not, because his eyes...

It had been too much. She'd woken in a cold sweat, gasping for air as if her lungs were collapsed by the weight of what she'd witnessed. How desperate was he for power, that he would steal the divinity of another god to achieve his goals? What were his goals, to begin with? The voices had whispered to her as much as they knew, but it was not enough. They did not know what his current plans were, only what he had once done, long ago. Another thing her people had gotten wrong.

She sighs as she turns away from the flash of steel and the dull thuds of wooden shields clashing against one another. She knows she must speak to him at some point. She's been avoiding all attempts he's made to speak to her so far, shifting them to conversations with her other party members. Now, she has little choice. She must be careful in how she deals with him; she cannot reveal too much of what she knows, or he will likely flee. How long will she be able to deceive a deceiver, however? She has to be very careful, indeed.

She decides to visit Adan first, to give her some time to steel her nerves. She remembers having to retrieve some notes for him anyway, may as well 'find out' about that and go get them. A mindless task to give her more time to consider.

She's trailing up the steps to the Apothecary's hut when she hears her title called by his voice. She barely manages to silence the groan building in her throat; she is not ready for this yet.

"Herald, a moment, if you will." His voice, quietly confident and smooth as silk, feels like shards of broken glass to her heart.

She turns, crossing her arms rather than keeping them open; one more barrier she can comfort herself with as she looks at him.

"Solas, right?" her mind burns as she forces her mouth to say his name once again.

She notes his minute hesitation as he swallows the fact that she'd had to confirm his name with him. As if he weren't quite important enough in her mind to remember if that was right or not, despite having accompanied her since the beginning. He quickly covers it with a carefully gracious smile.

"Yes. I wanted to ask you something, if you can spare the time?"

She nods, rather than trust her voice at the moment.

"Since we met, you've seemed... pained at my presence. I confess, I am still not quite sure what to make of that. Unless, of course, my assumption is incorrect. I hope I don't appear too presumptuous, seeing as I don't exactly know you yet. I would simply not wish to cause you any undue stress; you are already under enough strain as it is. You seem to be avoiding me, and I'd like to know why," his eyes convey nothing but honest concern.

She hesitates, looking down as she tries to find a way out, speaking before slowly lifting her gaze to his.

"You... you remind me of someone who was once very dear to me. Someone who hurt me deeply. You even have the same eyes. It startles me, that's all. I'm sorry if I've come off as harsh, things have been happening so quickly, I really haven't had much time for pleasantries. If it's not rifts, it's someone needing me to retrieve this or that."

She watches as he absorbs her confession, sympathy coming over his features, along with a cloud of regret.

"Oh. I am sorry if I make you uncomfortable, that was not my intention."

She waved his concern off with her hand, quickly returning it to her crossed arm.

"No need to apologize. It's not your fault; you can't help how you look. I'll get over it soon enough."

She grit her teeth slightly as she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

"So," he looks down, then up again quickly, a look she knows means he is both testing her and sating his curiosity all at once, "The Herald of Andraste. That's quite the title. How do you feel about that?"

She chuckles uneasily. "It makes me uncomfortable at best, though I understand why the masses who believe in such things need it. It would not have been my first choice, but, it's better than 'the prisoner that killed the Most Holy and the entirety of the gathering at the conclave'."

He raises a brow slightly. "It is good that you have the wisdom to understand their need, even if you do not desire the title yourself. Let us hope that once the Breach is sealed, they do not cast you aside, as they have done to so many of your people."

"My people? Are you not elvhen yourself?" she knows the answer, of course, but she must play the part properly, if she is to play at all.

He at least has the decency to look somewhat contrite before he raises his head and explains, "Apologies. I do not see myself as belonging to either the Dalish or city elves, in truth. I have spent too much time in the Fade, seeking the knowledge lost to the time of the ancient elves, to truly feel as if I belong among them anymore."

"You sound as if you've spent more time in the Fade than the average mage, then. If I may ask, how much have you explored it?"

This time, both his eyebrows raise.

"A great deal, though one can never fully explore all of the Fade, of course. It is infinite."

She nods, "This is true. I'm just curious if we've explored similar paths or not. I have explored quite a bit myself, even before all this."

He smiles, his brow knitting together slightly, his expression one of a scholar studying a fascinating subject.

"Have you indeed? I did not think to find a fellow dreamer here. I must say, I find myself curious to know if you have considered Fade magic as a field of study. It can be quite useful, in many circumstances."

She chuckles, "I have, though I've only learned a few things on my own. My clan's Keeper didn't exactly approve, though she didn't entirely discourage it, either."

His expression darkens slightly, "I can imagine. Not many of the Dalish value magic outside the realm of the typical paths of study. It is disheartening to see. But, come, will you show me what you have learned? I could teach you some of it, if you are willing, though I am sure there are others who are better at it than I."

She scoffs in her mind, but nods, showing none of her ridicule externally. "Certainly. We should go outside the walls, though; I wouldn't want to cause a ruckus."

He sweeps his hand to the side with a smile, "Lead the way."

She considers grabbing her gear, but decides against it and turns, heading down the steps and by the tavern, winding through the small gatherings of people on the way. It isn't until they are past the tavern that he speaks again.

"So you neglected to tell me where you have visited whilst traveling the Fade. If it is not an imposition, I am quite curious to know."

She smiles. Oh, the irony, that he should be asking her these questions, when she was the one asking him before. Now, she knew. Now, she'd been to many of the places he'd spoken of, dreamt there, learned there. Now, she had ages of memories in her head to fill the gaps of her own knowledge.

"Hmm. One of the most notable places for recent history was Ostagar."

"Really? I have been there myself. The juxtapositions of memory there are quite fascinating. I am surprised to hear you have been there, however. Were you not with your clan when you went there?"

She shakes her head, "They were nearby, but I wanted to explore the area myself. It wasn't until I returned that I found out our Keeper had sent two of our hunters to keep watch over me from a distance as I slept. She's never really trusted that I could resist temptation on my little excursions."

He cocks his head slightly, features curious. "Temptation? Did she believe your will weak enough that you would consort with demons as you slept?"

She sighs, "I truly don't know. I know she feared such a thing happening, but whether she believed me incapable of tending to myself, or if she was simply paranoid, I am unsure."

He frowns, gazing ahead as if in deep thought. "If your Keeper truly believed your will was that weak, she was wrong."

She snorts, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so? And what has lead you to this astounding conclusion?"

He stops just outside the gates, turning to her with a thoughtful, but serious expression. She halts and looks at him in kind, waiting.

"If you were prone to such weakness, you would not still be standing here. The mark on your hand would have killed you as you slept. Instead, we are having this conversation, and you are alive and well, the mark stabilized. Or simply the act of you walking physically in the Fade would have killed you. What you have survived is truly remarkable, and I do not think it would have been possible, if you did not have an extreme amount of control and will to support you. It is remarkable."

She raises an eyebrow coyly, "So it would seem."

She smiles and walks on, heading toward the outskirts of the soldier's encampment. She hears him follow after a few moments, chuckling to herself as she walks. She quiets before he catches up to her, but apparently not quickly enough.

"What is so amusing, if I may ask?"

"You may, though you might not enjoy the answer I provide."

He huffs, though she can't tell if it's frustration or amusement. His expression is perplexed. "Humor me."

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You are studying me, as a specimen, a field of interest, as if I am some rare tome that contains unknown magic. I assure you, despite my mark, I am no such treasure."

He takes a step back, as if her words were a physical force, his face a mixture of emotions that flash before her eyes almost too quickly to recognize, save one: open curiosity. He finally settles on remorse before he speaks.

"I apologize once more if I have made you uncomfortable. It seems to be a recurring theme."

She smiles at his apology, "_Tel'abelas_, Solas. You may study me as you wish. It does not offend me. I simply find it amusing. So long as my amusement does not form a problem for you, I do not see an issue."

His brow lifts, though his eyes are guarded, "_Ma serannas_, Herald. You are far more forgiving than my rudeness deserves."

She shakes her head, "It is not rudeness to be curious. But I wish that you would not call me that. The _shemlen_ may call me what comforts them, but I would prefer you think of me as more than my title. Or less, if you wish. Other, at the very least."

His brow crinkles, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, "What would you prefer I call you, then?"

"My name, if you are comfortable with that. You are likely one of the few who could speak it without mangling the pronunciation."

He looks ahead at the valley before them, brow still creased, lips no longer smiling. "There is power in names. Are you sure you wish you give me that power?"

She smirks, "You speak of calling my name in the Fade and being able to summon me to you, or visiting me in turn, yes?"

He steals a somewhat surprised glance at her, before rooting his gaze back onto the far side of the valley once more.

"Then you are fully aware of the power I speak of. Interesting," he turns to her then, halting their progress at the edge of the frozen river, "Are you certain you wish to grant me this power, then, knowing what it could entail? We are both dreamers, however we do not know each other very well. Are you sure you would trust me with that knowledge?"

His gaze searches her face as she turns it up to him, though she is keenly aware that what he is looking at is her vallaslin. It is barely visible, nearly the color of her skin, but in direct sunlight, it is visible to the keen eye. The mark of Fen'Harel. She watches as his eyes widen at the realization that she bears his rarely seen mark. She bites the inside of her bottom lip to suppress the smirk that tries to form on her face. He focuses on her eyes, seeming to shake himself free of the shock he felt.

She tilts her head to the side, appearing as if she is considering his question. Her subtle action highlights the trail of his mark down her neck and below the collar of her robe. She watches his eyes trail down, noting the subtle tightening in his throat as he observes the path of her vallaslin.

She speaks then, straightening and looking him in the eyes as his gaze snaps up to meet hers, "The one you remind me of... I see much of him in you. He betrayed me in the end, but one cannot live on an island amongst the world. If I do not learn to trust again, he will have won. I cannot allow that. My clan was Lavellan; though, I find it likely that I am not destined to return to them. My name, the name I chose when I chose my vallaslin, is Fen'da'len."

A perfect blend of amusement and concern, with a considerable amount of wonder fixes itself on his face. He looks at her for a few moments, as if he is considering what to make of her. When he finally speaks, his voice is choked at first, either from emotion or holding laughter in, she cannot tell. Likely both.

"Y-you chose this name? Wolf Cub? And Fen'Harel's brand?"

"Yes."

"I realize this might sound impertinent, but I must ask: why? Do not the Dalish fear the Dread Wolf? Do they not tell fanciful tales of him being the betrayer of the old gods, the doom of the elves? Why would you chose such things for yourself? Surely your Keeper objected."

She grins, looking down and chuckling as she feels a slight flush rise on her cheeks, "She did indeed. But she also knew I was never one to follow the rules. I have always been a rebel. I was the one who transported the statue of Fen'Harel for my clan, who prayed to him to guard the places where we laid our heads to sleep every night. My Keeper knew I reveled in this task from a young age. One night, we were camped at the edge of the Korcari Wilds, and a young woman found me as I tended to Fen'Harel's statue. She was alone, simply curious, I expect. She did surprise me though, as she was not a young woman when she first appeared to me."

His raised eyebrow conveys his curiosity, "Oh? What was she?"

She smirks, "A wolf. I must admit, when I first saw her, I knew she was not simply a wolf, but in my ignorance, I mistook her for Fen'Harel himself. I was very young, so the mistake was easily made. When I fell to my knees in front of the wolf, thinking my prayers had finally been answered -that Fen'Harel himself had made himself known to me, that he had finally come to deliver me from a clan I never truly belonged in- she transformed, revealing herself as the young human woman she was. I begged her to show me how she did it. I don't know why, but she took pity on me."

She looks around, the tree line surrounding the old Apothecary's house behind her catching her eye. "_Garas_," she took his hand, "follow me."

It isn't until they are well within the cover of the wooded area, away from the eyes of anyone else, that she lets go of his hand. She'd forgotten how warm his hands were, even in the frigid cold. Her traitorous heart leaps at the feeling, but she quells it as best she can.

She turns to face him, a feral grin on her lips as she holds her hand up, signaling him to wait. It's been a long time since she's done this, but the memory surfaces, the magic swells, and she lets herself fall forward onto large black paws. She shakes her fur coat out, stretching and luxuriating in the sensation, before she sits on her haunches in the snow and looks up at him, cocking her head to the side, ears alert.

He smiles. It's small at first, only a tug up at the corner of his lips, his arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at her. She tilts her head the other way, letting herself pant as she looks at him openly. His smile slowly broadens into a grin, lowering himself to a relaxed seated position, one knee up, resting his arm on it as he looks at her on her level. She moves a bit closer, leaving herself within reach, but sitting a polite distance away from him. Small concessions. Baby steps.

She sees his fingers twitch, but keeps eye contact, not wanting to discourage him. His arm leaves its resting place on his knee as he offers her his hand, raising an eyebrow in question. She ducks her nose under it, still keeping her eyes trained on his, giving permission, but watching. He gives a small stroke up the bridge of her nose, trailing up between her eyes before moving his hand away. She cocks her head to the side curiously, trying to impart what she's thinking, _'That's it?'_. When he doesn't move to do anything else right away, she gives a low whimper and sinks to her belly, resting her chin on her paws and looking up at him pitifully.

He chuckles and looks away for a moment, as if embarrassed. Whether it is for his sake or hers, she is unsure. Perhaps he thinks her foolish for such a display? It would've been rather undignified indeed, if she were still in her natural form. Perhaps that is the cause of his hesitation. If that is the case-

She catches a scent that is not theirs nearby, standing quickly, her great head pointed toward the origin of the foreign scent. A quiet growl starts in the back of her throat, her hackles raising stiffly on her back. Her ears pick up the clunking sounds of steel plate armor. The lack of care taken to conceal the tromping steps is evident, as she hears twigs snap under boots that would march to a soldier's beat on more sure footing. She darts in the direction of the disturbance, circling around carefully, padding lightly, investigating. She nears the commotion that disturbs the forest, the scent growing stronger in her wet nostrils. Finally, she gets a clear view of fur tufting out over rich fabric and polished metal.

She sighs in relief. She can avoid Cullen if she must. She doubles back quickly to find Solas where she'd left him, though he is standing now, raising an eyebrow at her in question. She shakes herself, dismissing the transformation and standing before him in her original form again.

She whispers, "Cullen," watching understanding dawn on him as he replies with a quick nod.

He whispers back in kind, "Perhaps we should retire to a more secluded spot, if you wish to continue uninterrupted?"

She shakes her head, "Not yet. He'll just keep looking if he doesn't find us. He's an ex-Templar, it's what they do. Old habits are hard to break."

Solas grimaces and sighs quietly. He looks distinctly uncomfortable with the situation, though she can't quite place why. She rolls her eyes and decides to employ one of her Fade magic tricks. She waves her hand over him slowly as she starts to hear Cullen's clumsy trampling of the forest floor with her elvhan ears, creating a pocket in the veil to hide Solas for the time being. She can maintain it long enough to send Cullen away.

Finally, he arrives, stopping abruptly as he rounds a tree to see her, apparently alone.

"Herald! Are you alright? I saw you heading this way a half hour ago, I was a bit worried when you didn't return."

She smiles easily at him. She's always liked Cullen; he was never anything but genuine with her. "Yes, Cullen, I am well. Thank you for your concern. I just need to get out for a bit, breathe some air, take a walk. I promise, I won't go far. I just need to clear my head. I'll be along soon."

He gives a small bow, "Of course, I understand. By your leave."

She nods and smiles kindly as she leans back against a tree twice as wide as she is while he turns to leave, gazing up at the sunlight filtering through the trees. She is the picture of ease, visually confirming her story flawlessly. When she sees the last flash of steel disappear with Cullen through the trees, she snaps her fingers, releasing her spell. Just in time, too, as she's nearly depleted her mana. Solas slowly appears through a shimmer of the veil, fully emerging seconds later.

He crosses his arms over his chest, eying her speculatively.

She raises an amused eyebrow at him, "Yes?"

He seems to consider his words carefully. She watches the muscles of his jaw twitch as he continues to bore through her with stormy eyes. When he finally does speak, the pride dripping from his voice is unmistakable.

"You must have been the absolute terror of your Keeper's nightmares."

Her careful mask is shattered as she peers at him in shock, "Why in the world would you say that? What have I done that's so nightmarish?"

He lifts a hand to gesture to her, "Would you like me to list the reasons?"

She snorts incredulously, surprise still strong on her visage, "If you like."

He begins to pace slowly, ticking the reasons off on his fingers as he strolls, still smiling, "You have not one, but two rare forms of magic in your arsenal, one of which would no doubt greatly disturb any modern elf. You bear the vallaslin of a reviled deity, one you chose to associate yourself with. Even your very name is meant to honor him, in your unique way. You have a strength of will unlike anything I have seen outside of the Fade. You have entirely too open a mind for any Dalish clan to be fully tolerant of, even one who regularly trades with outsiders. You stalked Cullen with the skill of the very beast whose form you had assumed. And last, but not least, you handled a direct confrontation with such flawless lies that even I almost believed you, despite knowing the truth."

He stops in front of her, looming over her slightly, eyes alight with curiosity as he regards her, "What manner of creature _are_ you?"

She has to be careful here. It would be all too easy to tip her hand right now, to slip up and say too much. She creases her brow in mild confusion, an affectation, but a necessary one. "What is it _you_ think I am, exactly?"

She waits as he continues to dissect her with his eyes for what is sure to be only a few seconds, but feels like years. She can't flinch. Her veneer of innocent confusion has to be made of iron to withstand his scrutiny. The tension between them is tight enough to snap if even a fleck of dust lands on it.

"I confess, I do not know," the admission seems to physically pain him, a faint grimace fracturing his careful mask of scrutiny, "and it perplexes me greatly."

He tore away from her suddenly, returning to his pacing with quickened strides, interrupted only by the occasional sidelong glance, aimed in her vicinity. She realizes he is muttering to himself, the ancient elvish translating fluidly thanks to the voices from the well when she catches snippets of it that he speaks too loudly. He sees her as a puzzle. One he must unravel ...could ruin all his careful planning. He dissolves into petty cursing in his frustration. She decides to end his quiet tirade.

"_Atisha hamin_, Solas; I did not mean to cause you distress with my question. If I knew what it would cause, I would not have asked. _Ir abelas_. I am an elf, that is all. An elf with unusual preferences, perhaps, but still only an elf. I cannot be the only elf among the clans to have my preferences or talents, I am sure. Aside from the mark, I suppose." She holds her marked hand up, then lets it fall back to her side in a shrug.

Her words have some effect, though she is unsure how much. His pacing slows and the muttering ceases, at least. After a few moments, he turns and stops, shoulders slumping with a sigh that deflates him. He looks at her, sullenly, hooded eyes guarded. He nods.

"You are right, of course. _Ir abelas_, Fen'da'len. My frustration is not of your creation. There is simply something..." he trails off, eyes casting down and away.

It was dangerous to ask, but it would seem more odd if she didn't, "Something...?"

He turns his regard to her once more, almost reluctantly. "There is something beyond the mark that is unique to you. I cannot pinpoint it, but that is hardly your fault. I am afraid I have turned out to be poor company for you. I apologize."

She shakes her head with a small smile, "Not at all, Solas," she reaches out and takes his hand gently, folding it between both of hers, "Despite your worry, I have enjoyed this. It was a very welcome distraction from reality. It has been very long indeed since I have had the chance to be a wolf. To share that with someone who didn't immediately run screaming from it was more comforting than you realize."

She watches, fascinated, as she sees him swallow, the guarded look of his eyes falling to give way to a profound sorrow. He turns to her fully, smiling sadly and folding his free hand over hers as he comments.

"I understand better than you might imagine."

She smiles, and it feels easier to smile now, in his presence, than it should. The gaping hole of agony that has been her constant companion for the past month and a half -ever since he'd torn her heart out in that beautiful grotto- is reduced to a low ache. For now. She holds onto the feeling; she knows it is fleeting, and fickle. But for now, she almost feels whole again. It makes her bold.

"Can I..." she chuckles half-heartedly at her foolishness and looks down, blushing. She should not ask after such small, silly things.

"Please, continue." The tone of his voice is sincere, at least.

"Can I ask why you laughed and looked away before I smelled Cullen coming? I know it's silly to ask, I'm mostly wondering because I'm afraid I made a fool of myself." She knows she is likely red from her neck to her ear tips, but she is still curious. She feels the hand he'd clasped over their other hands lift away, only to feel the pressure of his finger under her chin, gently guiding her to look at him. Once she complies, he returns his hand to grasping hers.

"If anyone was a fool, it was I. Your wolf... it was beautiful. I was jealous, if I am to be perfectly honest. In the Fade, I can be anything I choose. Here, I have only this form. To see you wield such a rare gift... I should not have been so selfish as to think only of myself. I find I must apologize to you again. It is not often I have to do this so frequently. If you wish, I would be happy to indulge your shifting powers for a small while. I can believe it when you say you do not get the chance very often. I would not begrudge you this opportunity simply because of my petty jealousy."

She cannot help the smile that pulls at her lips and spreads across her face. "I would love that, though I'm afraid it would leave you bereft of a conversation partner."

He gives a kind smile and shakes his head gently, "Not at all. You expressed yourself quite well when you were a wolf. I found I was bereft of nothing, aside from the ability to shift myself."

His smile is infectious. A blush tints her cheeks softly, "Then I won't keep you waiting any longer."

She chuckles, a sound that turns into a snuffling huff as she transforms, taking her paws out of his hands gently and planting them on his chest. She noses his hands as he laughs, light and clear as it finds her ears. He reaches out, sweeping his hand across her head and curling behind her ear to scratch softly. She leans into the pressure, her eyelids drooping in pleasure, making a contented grunt as her eyes close completely. He returns to stroking her head and neck, seeming to know exactly what would feel comforting to her. As if he was recalling it from memory. Her thoughts are intruded by his voice, her eyes opening to see his looking at her with wistful sadness.

"You take to it as naturally as if you were born to it, little wolf. The young woman you met as a child may have taught you the ancient art, but you have turned it into more than magic. It is part of you, no more apart from you than your green eyes or your indomitable will. It is a pleasure to watch."

She watches him as he smiles sadly, letting his hand drift over the side of her face, still stroking her fur gently. She feels sorrow for him, a tether tugging at her heart. She moves her paws to his shoulder, leaning forward to rest her head on her paws, the closest she can get to comforting him in her current form. He gives a surprised chuckle, moving his arms to return the gesture and embrace her.

"I thank you for your comfort, little wolf. Unexpected though it may be, it is not unwelcome."

The temptation to stay there, wrapped in his arms, even in this form is strong. She'd never shown him this form before, keeping it secret. Never told him the story of how she got it, or how she was the one to look after his statue. She is in uncharted territory here, but she has the advantage of knowing him, at least. When she feels his embrace slacken slightly, she pulls back, setting her paws down to the ground. She circles him once, looking up to him as she moves to his front again. He is watching her carefully, a guarded smile tugging at his lips.

"Would you like me to sit again?"

She looks away, deeper into the forest, nodding her head in that direction as she looks back at him.

"Follow you, then?"

She doesn't respond, simply padding toward the trees, leaving it up to him. When she hears his steps follow, she snuffles a laugh quietly. He never could resist his curiosity, whether in regard to her, or anything else they'd encountered. It was one of the qualities she enjoyed most about him, even when it almost always lead to trouble. Especially because of that.

"Where are you leading me, little wolf? Your laugh is not reassuring."

She stops. She turns back to him, regarding him in her own curiosity. He'd realized she was laughing, even in this form? How interesting. She wonders if he is lying about being able to shift, or simply exceptionally observant. She returns to him, nosing his hand to urge him on. She moves on, treading toward the small clearing she knows is ahead from when she'd discovered it the last time she'd been here. She doesn't laugh when he follows, reluctantly.

The forest thickens before they reach their destination, proving more of a challenge for him than her. But they emerge in the clearing soon enough, the sun warming the grass and their fur and skin alike. She moves to a small patch of blue flowers the color of his eyes, curling herself around the patch and laying comfortably in the warmth. She turns to see his eyes wide with wonder, drinking in the sight of such a warm place in the middle of so much snow and ice.

"How is this possible? It is as if..." he drifts off, letting his magic drip from his fingertips to reach out and sense the truth for him.

She smiles and stands, shaking the wolf form off, turning to look at him understandingly. "It is a phenomenon I don't encounter often, but the veil is very thin here. It would not appear to any without magic as it does to us. Where we see and feel a warm spring clearing, others would see what they expect- a cold, snowy space in the middle of the forest." Another thing she hadn't shown him before. But what good would doing exactly the same thing as before do anyone? Aside from stopping their enemy, naturally. That would still happen, regardless.

He tilts his head, eyes studying her. "How did you find this? You've hardly had time to breathe, let alone explore the forest at random."

She chuckles, "Been spying on me, have you?"

He seems surprised at her question, "Spying? Hardly. Watching, yes. But that is not so unusual. Everyone watches you. They listen to the words you say, keep a check on the decisions you make, watch you rise to meet the challenge you have been given at every turn. You are important, intrinsic to the success of our goal."

"I see. And is this why _you_ study me so keenly?"

He hesitates only a moment, but she sees it. And his guard is up when he answers, "Partly."

She raises a brow, "Partly?"

"Yes."

A wicked smirk graces her face, "You realize that is not an answer, yes? Your secrecy wounds me."

Oh, how true those words are.

His guard softens, his expression long-suffering, but sympathetic. "I do not mean to wound you, little wolf. Nor do I mean to betray the trust you have shown me today; a trust I am shocked at, all things considered. It is indeed partly due to what you have shown me, that I am unsure of my reasons now. You have surprised me greatly. It is rare that I find myself this unsure of anything, let alone a person."

She considers his words, pausing and bowing to the patch of flowers to pick one. She turns and walks to him, deftly tucking the flower's stem into one of the empty lace holes on his over shirt. She smirks as he looks down at the flower in his shirt with a slightly baffled expression.

"They bring out the color of your eyes beautifully. Consider it a gift for your honesty. When you are sure of your reasons, tell me. Until then, enjoy the day."

With that, she turns and transforms, darting out of the clearing in a burst of speed that is somewhat fueled by the blushing embarrassment beneath her furred cheeks. When she is concealed enough to be sure he can't see her, but still close enough to watch him, she turns and observes.

She watches his eyes lower from the place he'd last seen her to the flower, plucking it from his shirt and twirling is softly by its stem. A small smile evolves into a chuckle, and he shakes his head. Then a pained sorrow eclipses his joy, making him sigh shakily. He looks at the flower as if it's a precious gift he's been given, but doesn't deserve. He gently places it in the palm of his hand, sinking to the ground and crossing his legs, the flower cradled in his hands over his lap.

He lowers his head and she can feel the edges of the magic when it begins to spread from him, stepping quietly to avoid it, lest he find her there. It recedes slowly, forming around the edges of the clearing. Suddenly, she notices small green plants sprouting all across the clearing, uncurling and pointing themselves at the warm sun as petals unfold. The petals turn from green to the same color as the flower he holds.

The entire floor of the clearing is changed from just a simple place of peace, to a masterful artwork of nature. It is breathtaking in its beauty and simplicity. She feels his magic recede once more, slowly slipping back into him as if it had never left to begin with. He raises his head, looking at what he's created with a small smile. The peaceful look on his face is as striking as his surroundings, one she has never seen before. Even when she'd caught him sleeping before, where he should logically be at his most peaceful, she'd had the urge to smooth out the crease between his brow with her fingers. It isn't needed here.

She wonders at him never having shown her this form of his magic before. What else had he been hiding, aside from the obvious deception that he'd fooled everyone with? She has so many questions; questions she dare not ask yet. She's not sure when they should be asked, but they will have to be before the year is out. She only has to bide her time for now, and keep the truth hidden.

She waits.


	5. Chapter 5

She is so tired of waiting.

She's already been to speak with the Chantry, watched the demon parading around as Lord Seeker Lucius, observing the mockery the demon so easily made of the Chantry and the Templar's duties. As much as she knew it would happen, it still grated her to witness the spectacle; to see Cassandra so crushed and confused by it all.

She's done all she can in the Hinterlands. Master Dennet now takes care of the powerful equines housed in the makeshift stables next to the blacksmith. She's already taken Bull on their first dragon hunt, successfully felling the great beast, to the utter joy of her large Qunari companion. The only dampener on his spirits was the massive damage that had been done to her lower leg by one of the high dragon's smaller kin. He'd ended up carrying her from the field of battle, the sleeve of Solas' undershirt wrapped tightly around the worst of the damage.

Fortunately, they'd established a camp not far from the dragon's lair, so she hadn't had to put up with being carried for very long. Bull certainly hadn't seemed to mind carrying her, despite - or perhaps partly because of - the blood from her wound covering part of his arm by the time he'd set her down on a cot inside her tent.

Solas ushers the surprisingly gentle brute out of the tent, replacing him and setting out some cleaner and more appropriate medicinal supplies on the small side table beside her cot. She sits up, reaching for the supplies, only to have her hand gently smacked away.

"No. Lie back, I will tend to it. You are only going to make it bleed more than necessary by attempting it on your own."

She scoffs, "I'll have you know, I've dressed far worse than this on myself before, without any help."

He narrows his eyes at her, "Perhaps you have, but I am here now. There is no need to worry yourself."

She rolls her eyes, but concedes his point. If he wants to bother himself with it, she won't object. Much.

She waves her hand toward her mangled leg, laying down as she'd been instructed. "Fine, if you must insist. Have a field day with it."

He shakes his head, "If you hadn't insisted on me taking the last potion for a far more minor injury, this all could have been avoided. As it is, a potion will not suffice, though it will help. Here."

He hands her a freshly mixed healing potion, uncorking it as he does so. She gratefully tips it back, feeling its effects lessen the constant pain in her leg. The sensation of ripped muscles knitting back together is not entirely unpleasant, if strangely itchy; a feeling she's more than used to by now.

"Your injury was not minor, Solas. I wouldn't have wasted such a limited resource on a scratch. Surely you know that by now."

He sighs as he dresses a strip of bandage with an elfroot salve, shaking his head. "It still was not worth being carried back to camp over, was it?"

She raises a brow, propping herself up on an elbow to look at him properly, "It most certainly was! You could barely see through the blood flowing from that gouge over your eye. I wasn't about to let you walk back to camp, tripping over all the rocks and roots you couldn't see. Not to mention the possibility of a concussion that you most likely had. I will not stand to see my companions in worse shape than I am. It isn't right."

He glares at her, "You most likely will not stand at all, if you do not lay back and let me tend to this," he gestures to her leg. His expression softens as he continues, "While your dedication to your companions is commendable, it will benefit us just as much to see our leader in good health. What you did was reckless."

She gives a sharp laugh, "Ha! Reckless? Like putting a barrier over me just as you saw that drake's claws bearing down on your head? Yes, I was so very reckless. Shame on me."

He growls. Actually growls. She almost laughs, but just then, he begins to unwrap the hasty bandaging around her leg. Her laugh is bit back in a hiss of pain as the soft fabric of Solas' blood-soaked sleeve snags on bits of her tattered skin.

As his ruined sleeve lifts away, he carefully drifts his hands over the area, calling his healing magic forward in a soft green glow, slowly knitting the skin together and stopping the ooze of blood that had been encouraged by the sudden removal of pressure. He finishes and brings the salved strip of bandage up, laying it gently along the worst of the fresh, reddened skin. He retrieves a roll of bandages, carefully wrapping the area with the practiced movements of one who has done so too many times to count. He tears the end with his teeth, tucking it gently in beneath the rest as well as any healer.

"There, done. You should rest for a day or two, but there will be no scarring now." He busies himself with picking up the supplies he's used, tucking them into a small pouch.

She sighs. She can't help but feel slightly guilty now. "Solas?"

He looks up, "Yes?"

"Thank you. And..._ Ir abelas_. I shouldn't have chided you for trying to protect me. I just wish you would look after yourself as well as you look after me."

He chuckles, "I do, little wolf. You need not worry yourself over me."

"Doesn't mean I won't."

He pauses, looking at her with a small smile. "I know. Rest, little wolf. I will bring food in a while and sit with you, but rest in the meantime."

She smiles and nods, settling back into her cot with a sigh. As much as she knows she should stop herself, she is falling for him all over again. He might not know that she knows what she does, but she can see the signs in him as well. He's been showing them, almost despite his better judgment.

She'd been a fool before, to think he hadn't known what was happening, long before it happened. The signs had been there, for both of them; but they'd both been too blind to notice. Everyone else certainly had, and teased them both about it long before either of them had acted on their feelings.

This time, her own actions were more subtle in public. He seemed to sense that, and responded in kind, keeping his small, quiet affections more hidden from the rest. In private, she saw them occur with growing frequency, despite both of them keeping a professional distance in front of the others.

She wonders how long it will last. She wonders how long she will last, before telling him what she knows.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Crestwood is as much of a nightmare as it had been before.

The Storm Coast is as much of a mess as she remembers.

Then comes the nightmare with Alexius' time magic at Redcliffe, just to toss a giant pile of wolf shit on top of it all. At least Dorian was finally by her side, though he didn't know her well enough to call her 'friend' just yet. They'd only met in passing before this, after all. Sloshing through the castle's red lyrium-addled dungeons once more, she realized that the only thing holding her together was Dorian's steady presence at her side. After they'd defeated the two pitiful venatori guards right after appearing in this hellish potential future, she paused, a thought occurring to her.

She could tell him. They're already experiencing time travel as it is, what's another time travel surprise? Why not? She looks at him, questioning her own motives as she ponders the possibilities. It's not like he could run anywhere. He needs her to help him get through this, just as she needs him. She knows what they're about to go through.

They've just finished going through figuring out what happened when she stops him from moving off with a hand on his shoulder. "Dorian. I have a confession."

"Oh my, that doesn't sound ominous at all. Should I be running? Are you going to tell me you planned this all along?"

She laughs, "Hardly. None of this was a part of some grand plan, other than Alexius', I suppose. My confession isn't about our current circumstances, but more about what is going to happen from this moment forth."

He raises an aristocratic brow in curiosity, "Is that so? Making plans, are we? Well perhaps we should escape this rather dismal location before you do that, yes? I imagine those guards we just obliterated were meant to report in at some point."

She sighs, "I doubt it. As much as I wish I could delay this, I can't. I realize you barely know me, and this all might come as a shock, but I have to tell you now, before we're overheard by anyone this will affect. I wish there was another way, I do."

"Well alright then deary, do tell me, if it's that important." He crosses his arms, starting to lean against the wall, then seems to think better of it, giving the wall a disgusted look and shuddering.

She finds one of the chairs that isn't completely mired in filth and drags it near him, seating herself with a sigh.

He chuckles, "Oh my, is this going to require seating arrangements? I am intrigued now. Do tell."

She grimaces, "Sorry, I've just been holding this in for a few months now, it's more tiring than I'd thought it would be," she takes a breath, steeling herself. It's now or never.

"I have seen all of this before."

She watches as both of his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "Before? As in, you know what's going to happen?"

She nods, "Yes. Everything that happens for the next year. This future that we're seeing now, we avert it. You and I go back in time, and everything is fixed. The bad guys are defeated, we all win."

His grin lights up the murky room considerably, "Well that is wonderful news! Why do you look so utterly depressed, my dear? That is fantastic!"

"Because there's a lot of things that can happen in a year, and there's secrets that I know about some of my companions that... complicate things considerably."

His smile turns into a thoughtful frown, "Hmm. I suppose that could darken your perspective a bit. Are these secrets so terrible that they make your inevitable victory a bad thing?"

"Well, yes and no. The victory is good, regardless, but there are things that need to be addressed during that year which..." she sighs, "I really don't know how to handle. One in particular will be a problem, after the victory."

He is silent for a few moments, and she can sense the wheels turning in his head as he considers her words. "How is it that you were thrown into the past? Does it have to do with Alexius' magic?"

"That I don't know. I went to sleep one night almost a month after our victory, then suddenly I woke to find it all starting over again. I've been playing along as well as I could, to hide what I knew, but it is straining."

He squats next to her, looking at her with sympathy. "I can only imagine how difficult that must be. I don't imagine many could deal with that and still have any sanity left. You must have incredible strength of will to withstand it."

She gives a choked laugh, "So Solas keeps telling me."

"Does he know, then?"

Her eyes widen, "Gods, I hope not. He is the one I'm worried the most about finding out before I've figured out how to tell him myself that I know."

"Ahh, a lover then?"

"What? No! I mean, yes sort of, in the future, but... it's complicated," she sighs in defeat, "He is more than he appears. To everyone else, - and indeed to me, before I found out - he appears to be an elvhen apostate who willingly surrendered his staff to help us discover how to close the Breach. And for all intents and purposes, that is all he ever is, until he disappears just after the victory."

"What is he really, then? Obviously it has you worried."

She hesitates. While she knows that the Dorian she is close friends with in the future would be able to keep a lid on what he's asking her, his loyalty is not yet assured. "I... Dorian, what I've told you, and everything I'm about to tell you, it cannot be spoken of within earshot of anyone else. Not a single slip-up, no mistakes. It could unduly affect the future if any of this was known by anyone else before they were ready. It could completely ruin our victory, leaving Thedas to the fate we're currently seeing. You understand this, right?"

He nods slowly, looking her in the eyes as he replies, "You have my word, dear woman. I will not breathe a word of this to anyone. You've shown an incredible amount of trust in me, despite barely knowing me. I will not betray it."

She gives him a sad smile, "That's the thing, Dorian. I do know you. Quite well, in fact. It's the reason I trust you so readily."

He gives a small chuckle, "Then I must have acquitted myself incredibly well in the future. Good for me. Not surprising, mind you, but still good to hear."

She laughs, "You did indeed. You're one of the most talented necromancers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and you were a steadfast friend through everything. I hope to repeat the experience."

"My goodness what a shining account! I shall certainly try to live up to your expectations, and have no doubt I shall succeed. But do tell me, what is it about this elf that has you so worried? As much as I love talking about me, we've sadly gotten off track. Do continue."

"This is going to sound insane," she closes her eyes, leaning forward and rubbing her eyelids with the heels of her hands, "But then I guess the rest of this isn't any less crazy, so I suppose I'll come right out and say it."

She sits up and looks at him seriously, "Solas is Fen'Harel."

The burst of laughter that ushers from him is almost enough to knock him flat on his back, but he braces himself against the wall just in time. She rolls her eyes and waits for him to calm down with a raised eyebrow.

He finally catches sight of her chiding expression and manages to calm himself enough that he only occasionally snorts his laughter as he asks, "You're serious? The bald, rag wearing elf that follows you around like a docile puppy is the elvhen wolf-god of betrayal? You must be joking, surely."

She sighs, "I only wish I were. Believe me, when I found out, it was about as easy for me to swallow as you seem to find it. Though my reaction was hardly comical."

At this, he seems drained of all humor. "You mean to tell me you're actually serious? Truly?"

She nods, "Truly. His disguise is a good one, and his deceit is perfected over centuries of practice. Don't play Wicked Grace with him, trust me."

His gaze shifted down and away, eyes wide, "Maker's balls. And you say he was your lover in this past... I don't even know what to call it. Life?"

"That's as good a title for it as any, I suppose. As for us being lovers, as I said: it's complicated."

"Well I suppose it would be, bedding a god and all that."

She give an exasperated gasp, "Oh, for the love of... I didn't bed a god! We kissed, three times! I loved him. I thought he loved me too. Then he broke it off before the final fight and disappeared once the battle was done. That's all."

He looked at her in shock, "Now I know you must be joking. Surely he couldn't be so heartless? That is despicable!"

She nods, unable to do anything but agree, "Now you understand how I feel. I wasn't able to even look at him, let alone speak to him for two weeks after I came back. When I finally did, it was like none of it had ever happened. Well, for me, at least. Obviously it hasn't for him."

A look of slight dread comes over his face, "Oh no. My dear girl, don't tell me you've fallen for him again? Kaffas, I know he's a god, but surely you couldn't let your heart be dashed against the rocks of that tragedy again?"

She raises her chin, "I haven't had to fall, Dorian. I never stopped loving him, even if I might hate him at the same time for what he did. I understand it a bit better now. I know what he is, I know what he wants. I can come at the situation with eyes open, instead of being blinded completely by the love I feel for him. This time, I am not ignorant of what he is. I'm watching him carefully. The only thing I've yet to figure out is where in that year I should confront him with what I know."

"Should he be confronted at all? If he's a god, there's no telling what he'll do, what power he could have. I don't know that I would suggest tipping your hand here."

She shakes her head, "I'm not worried about what power he might have. He's weakened right now without his foci. What tricks he does have up his sleeve are minor compared to what he once had. From what I've observed in my spying on him so far, he's only slightly more powerful than a gifted mage in his current state."

She pauses, sighing, "That won't always be the case, though. After he disappeared, I sought him out in the Fade. I witnessed him taking the power of what is left of another old elvhen goddess, Mythal. I think he meant to use it to supplement his powers, since he lost his foci in the end battle."

"What is this foci you speak of? I'd heard of such things, but never had the opportunity to see one for myself."

"It's what he gave to Corypheus in his foolishness, thinking Corypheus would do what he was too weak to do, after centuries of Uthenera had weakened him too much to reactivate his own foci. Instead, Corypheus used it to create the Breach, tossing the world into the ruin we are about to be witness to. Until we stop him, at least."

He raises an eyebrow, "Corypheus? Is that the name of this 'elder one' Alexius spoke of? And he has the foci of an old god? No wonder he's so powerful."

She nods, "Indeed. He's an ancient Tevinter Magister that entered the Fade physically. He claims that he's been to the Black City and seen the throne of the Maker, empty. He came back a blighted creature. He thinks himself a god, but he is no more of a god than you or I. He simply has a stolen foci that gives him the appearance of this power. He is a usurper, a fake with an uncontrollable power that he doesn't understand. It will be his doom, in the end."

"Or ours, if we don't fix this."

She shakes her head, "No, we will fix this. Obey your instincts, Dorian. The spell you use on Alexius' amulet to get us out of here is the right one. The others buy us the time to make it out. It... won't be easy to watch, but we can't help them. They are right when they say they are already dead. When we get back, we'll fix all of this. It'll take time, but we'll fix it."

He looks her in the eyes and nods, "I believe you. And I'll keep your secret. Our success hinges on you, it seems; I would not do anything to undermine something so important. I thank you for your trust."

She smiles, "You kept me steady through all of it, Dorian. You might not know me very well yet, but you will. My trust is well placed, of that I am sure."

He chuckles, "Your confidence in me is inspiring. Now then, unless there's other ground-shaking things to confess, I believe the rest can wait until we get out of here, yes?"

She stands, offering Dorian a hand up from his crouching position, "Yes. There are other things, and I will need your council on a great many of them as time moves on. But for now, we need to find our companions and make it out of here. I'm glad you're at my side, Altus Dorian of house Pavus."

He gives a sharp laugh, "Ha! Well if we're using titles now, I'm glad to have earned your trust so spectacularly, oh Herald of Andraste."

She grimaces, "Just Fen'da'len is fine."

"Fendalin? What in Andraste's tits kind of name is that?"

She snickers, "It means wolf cub. Ironic, don't you think?"

"'Wait," he stops her moving to the dungeon door with a hand on her arm, "So you mean to tell me that your name means wolf cub, and you've swapped spit and exchanged love poems with the wolf god himself? Was this name picked before or after this unfortunate love affair?"

"Long before. I'll tell you the story after we get out of here."

He releases her arm with a surprised chuckle, "I shall listen with rapt attention, I assure you."

She shakes her head as she unlocks the door, "I have no doubt."

After they find Cassandra, they quickly move to where she knows Solas is being held. She nearly breaks as she again sees how badly the red lyrium has ravaged his body. The wonder in his red eyes as he first lays eyes on her cracks a chink in her armored heart.

Then a thought occurs to her. She seizes on the moment, knowing this will be the only chance to see how he will react to her knowing.

She turns to Dorian, "Can you two go get Leliana? I need to speak to Solas for a moment. We'll be right behind you."

Cassandra hesitates, but nods, heading toward the door. Dorian raises an eyebrow, looking between Solas and Lavellan with a look that seems to ask, 'are you sure about this?' She nods. He sighs and turns to follow Cassandra, closing the door behind them.

She turns to Solas, sliding the key into the lock on his cell door and turning it, pulling the door open. She grips the door for support as she gathers the courage to speak.

She can't look at him when she speaks. "Solas."

"Yes?"

"I know who you are. I know what you've done. I tell you this now, because I am too afraid to tell the god that stands in Alexius' throne room a year before now. Because I am too afraid that he will run, that he will flee, and that I will lose him forever. Before he has the chance to regret it as thoroughly as he does when he finally does leave, after all our battles are won. Before he steals the power of a goddess that does not deserve his deceit. Before he breaks my heart and leaves me an empty void."

Silence. She manages to look at him - barely - to find his face a mask of utter shock.

He somewhat composes himself, "H-how?"

She answers quietly, "Because I've been here before, rescued you once already. I don't know if it was Alexius' time magic that triggered it, or how it happened. But I was thrown back a year in time, with all the memories that I had gained. Including the voices from the Well of Sorrow in Mythal's temple. They were the ones that told me, once I bothered to ask. All too late to find you once you'd disappeared, of course. Too late to find out that the orb Corypheus possesses is your foci. That the very reason the sky was torn in the first place, was because of your foolish mistake. That the elf I first kissed in the Fade, the very one I came to love with every fiber of my being, was Fen'Harel."

The wall he's leaned against during her confession is now his support as he slides to the floor, landing in a defeated heap of despair. His eyes are cast aside, chin trembling in distress. She joins him on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of him. He stubbornly refuses to meet her gaze.

"Then my failure is complete. What will you do with me?"

She cocks her head to the side, surprise lighting her features. "Do with you? I will do what I have always done. I will stand at your side and help you in every way you will let me."

He gives a pained, mournful laugh, "Help me? I am a dead man. The lyrium is eating me from the inside out. There is no help for me."

She shakes her head, "I know. I was not referring to you in this reality, though I will do what I can to get Dorian and I back to our reality to fix all of this. We will succeed. I meant I will help... Solas. I know the future, I know how to prevent your foci from being destroyed. That would keep you from having to take Mythal's power, yes?"

He slowly nods his head, "Yes. But you cannot help me beyond that. Where I... where I had originally intended to go, what I had intended to do, you cannot follow me."

"You plan to release the old gods from where you locked them away?"

His eye widen, "How do you know? Did I confess this to you?"

She shakes her head, "No. I took your identity, your words and actions, and followed them to their natural conclusion. They will kill you for your original deception. That is why you say I cannot follow."

He gives a grim nod, "Yes. Of that, I have no doubt."

She gives a frustrated huff, "Then why release them? Obviously they deserved to be locked away, so why release them now? Is Thedas in such a state that it can't survive without the interference of gods that have no idea what it's become?"

"Yes, it is. This world is not the world it was meant to be. I was a fool when I bound the pantheon; young and brash and foolish. I made the wrong choice. You cannot possibly understand, little wolf."

Surprise, then anger bloomed on her face as his once term of endearment stabbed a knife of condescension into her heart.

"Don't call me that. And don't presume to think you know what is right for Thedas. Just because you're Fen'Harel doesn't mean you know everything, especially after being in Uthenera for as long as you were. You wake up after a two thousand year nap and think you can accurately gage the state of the world, better than those who have lived and breathed it? Call me an impudent mortal if you will for saying that, but I will call you an idiot god if that is what you believe."

She sees the anger flash across his face as she speaks, but as she finishes, it slowly twists into something akin to peace. Then amusement. She barely feels the edges of his magic tasting her, licking at her own magic, testing it.

He chuckles, "I have never given you enough credit, Fen'da'len. You surprise me, yet again. Before you leave this blighted reality, I will give you something. A message, of sorts, to give myself in your reality. And a gift for yourself. You will need it, if you truly do wish to accompany me after all this is done."

She knits her eyebrows together in confusion, "I... alright? I'm not sure what you mean."

He stands, offering her his hand. His magic envelops her, pressing in and mingling with her own for a moment, then recedes completely. She takes his proffered hand and hoists herself to her feet as he speaks.

"You will see, little wolf. There is power yet, in this old elf's bones. I would not see it snuffed without passing part of it on to my vessel."

She raises a brow, "Vessel?" she blinks, "Me? Is that why you were testing me?"

He smirks, then walks around her, opening the door and waving her on. "After you, little wolf."


	6. Chapter 6

Alexius is defeated.

The roar of the not-archdemon shakes the rotting castle as Leliana, a ghost of her former self, nods to Cassandra in determination. They exit the door of the throne room resolutely, knowing they go to their deaths, but willing to do so to avoid the fate of the last year of their lives.

Solas stays behind.

She can sense the pull of the green and black time portal forming behind her as Dorian works tirelessly to open it, but her eyes are on Solas' back as he turns to the door, staff out and ready. Even with the red lyrium tainting his aura like a plague of evil, he is still beautiful.

As the demons and venatori burst in through the door, she focuses her own power on Solas, giving him an edge as he takes down one minion after another, magic swirling around him in a dance of death.

Finally, the portal is ready. She and Solas both are out of mana. He turns to her and runs, grasping her hand. A blast of light surges from him to her through their connection, stunning her as she sees him give a wicked smile that freezes in place as the light leaves him, his body turning to stone before her eyes.

Seconds later, the stone is shattered by a red lyrium club, attached to a horror of a red templar. His twisted visage sneers at her with wide, manic eyes. She shields her eyes from the shards of what was once Solas, just as Dorian grabs hold of her robe and pulls her through the portal.

The air is sucked from her lungs as she feels the displacement of time, far more keenly than she had before. She wonders at the sensation, as another feeling intrudes on her thoughts. It is foreign, yet strangely familiar. As though she knows the source to be a part of her, something she's been missing her entire life. It quietly clicks into place, as if it's been there all along, waiting to be unlocked. She looks at the void around her, seeing it with new eyes. She watches as time rewrites itself, sending her back, watching the passing of events as she vaults back through time.

Just as she reaches the point where she should exit into Alexius' throne room, everything stops.

His voice reaches out through the void, caressing her mind soothingly, speaking the ancient tongue of her people.

"Peace, little wolf. What you are feeling is what you should have had, what our people should never have lost to begin with. I have seen your mind and now understand this future you spoke of. If you are to stay by my side as you so desperately wish, you will need the gift I have given you. It is the missing piece of your heritage that was tossed like chaff to the wind so long ago by the carelessness of a fool. I cannot restore Elvhenan, but I leave you with a piece of it."

She feels a presence slide along her body, a sensation of power she could never have imagined before this moment.

His disembodied voice continues, "When you see me in a moment, I will sense that something is different about you, but I may not understand it at first. I've given you my essence, to keep safe for me. Find a quiet, private place, and take my hand. I will do the rest. Do not let it linger for too long. My vessel you may be, but my power can and will destroy you if it is kept to yourself for longer than necessary. Use your long life wisely, my heart."

She is pulled through the last few steps out of the portal, her lungs sucking in air greedily. Dorian comes out just behind her. Alexius falls to his knees, his head hanging low in sorrow. He knows he's lost. She sees a tear tremble on the end of his chin and fall to the floor, something she'd missed the first time this scene played out before her.

She almost reaches for him, but holds herself back. "I'm sorry, Alexius. I will not let you throw Thedas into ruin for the sake of your son. The price is too great."

He barely lifts his head enough to look at her, "Are you a parent, Herald?"

She shakes her head.

"Then you can't possibly understand. No price is too great for the life of a child. Please, let us be done with this. You've won. I... surrender."

She nods as he turns to his son, his voice breaking as he says his name. One of her soldiers places a hand on Alexius' shoulder and he stands, taking a breath and walking between them, a beaten, broken man.

A silence falls across the hall. She expects Dorian to say what he had before, but events have shifted. She looks to see him gazing sadly at Felix as he watches his father marched out of the castle. Silence reigns supreme until the sounds of steel boots hitting flagstone with an orderly beat demand the attention of everyone gathered.

Queen Anora enters the room, demanding the retreat of the rebel mages. Grand Enchanter Fiona tries to reason with her, but the Queen will hear none of it. Lavellan steps in, offering a solution: an alliance between the Inquisition and the rebel mages. Finding no other palatable choices, Fiona accepts. The Queen graciously agrees that this is the best offer they will receive, and removes herself and her retinue from the area, leaving as quickly as they'd arrived.

In the whirlwind of activity, Lavellan has barely managed to take a breath. She ushers Fiona out of Redcliffe Castle, leaving instructions to gather her charges and proceed to Haven as soon as they are able. With the mages successfully recruited, she mounts up with her party and begins the trek back to Haven.

Dorian rides beside her for the first leg of the trip, discussing her plans for Alexius and the mages. She tells him she plans to let Alexius live, to research magic for the benefit of the Inquisition and Thedas as a whole. He approves of the decision, though he is still saddened that Alexius has fallen so far from the man he once knew.

They reach an Inquisition camp that's almost at the halfway point of their journey just as the sun sets, and the group settles down to a campfire and rations. She tends to the horses herself, stalling the inevitable confrontation from Solas. She knows it must happen, but she would rather wait until they reach Haven. Something in her feels this is the right decision.

She feels magic reaching out to her, and looks over to see his eyes on her. She pushes back with her own magic, a silent indicator that she knows he's reaching out, but isn't ready to rejoin the group yet. She sees his lips form a hard line of annoyance, but feels his magic retreat for now.

An hour later, she finishes the last horse, sighing and wiping the sweat from her brow as she slips off toward the nearby river. After the day she's had, she needs to scrub herself clean. Between the filthy red lyrium future, riding for half the day, and tending the horses, she's not sure if she'll ever feel clean again. Not to mention now holding the essence of a god. She's completely unsure how to feel about that one.

Nudity has never been an issue for her; growing up Dalish meant sharing baths and close quarters where there was no room for prudish desires for privacy. She begins to strip her armor off at the river's edge, laying out the few pieces on a boulder near the water and shrugging the robe off to lay it over a low-hanging branch. She peels her underclothes off, spying a good flat rock to scrub them on in the river. Dropping her underthings on the rock, she dips herself into the water and feels around to find a smooth stone to scrub herself with.

She finds a good one, sinking up to her neck into the water and letting her skin soak while she enjoys the view of the stars winking at her through the leaves on the trees above her. She sighs and rests her scrubbing stone on her underclothes, reaching back to start picking her tightly wound braided bun apart. Her fingers deftly pry the tendrils holding it all together loose, combing through the length of the main braid to unravel her tresses, letting them fall gently down her back. She groans softly as her fingernails scrape against her scalp, gently releasing the tension of the day.

She dips her head back, letting her hair soak as she props her feet against the washing stone to keep the river from carrying her prone, floating form downstream. The current tugs at her hair and limbs, gently massaging her body, reminding her of every time she's done this while with her clan. Though, there was usually more splashing and jostling of the water, thanks to her clan mates moving around her. But she found she didn't mind the peace that this stillness provided her, the moment of reprieve from the world, from her responsibilities, from all thoughts of any kind. She almost felt as if...

She blinks her eyes open, surprise shocking her out of her reverie. She had almost felt as if she could enter the Fade, while still awake. One foot in both worlds... Uthenera.

She sits up, steadying herself against the washing rock with one hand, the other clutched to her chest as her heart pounds at the realization. She could enter Uthenera. Her mind races at the implications of her realization. This was how Solas controlled his exploration of the Fade so expertly. How he perfectly crafted the scenes from memory like a master. How he could demand that she wake up without being forced out of the dream state himself.

Her eyes dart guiltily in the direction of the camp, suddenly wishing she didn't have to go back at all, wishing that she could stay and experiment with this newfound gift. She certainly wouldn't be able to sleep now, despite her exhaustion. This discovery changes everything. She takes a deep breath, letting it go slowly in a bid to calm her racing heartbeat. She would have to finish bathing and washing her underthings; but after, she would gather her things and return to camp, eat, and go to her tent as quickly as she could without attracting attention.

She's never been so excited by the prospect of a cot in a private tent in her life.

She pauses, remembering that _he_ is at the camp. _Fenhedis_. She sighs, some of her excitement fleeing from her. She will have to avoid him somehow if she means to get to her tent at all tonight.

She rushes through washing herself and her underthings, getting it done right, but quickly. She wrings out the fabric and hangs it to dry on the same branch her robe is laying across. She'll retrieve her underthings in the morning. She slips her robe on and collects her armor, carrying it as she heads toward camp. She feels two flavors of magic fanning out from camp, searching for her. Dorian and Solas both, apparently. She rolls her eyes and gently pushes back on both of their auras, letting them know she is here and coming in.

She feels both fields recede quickly, her ears just starting to pick up conversation at the campfire as she gets closer.

"...she is. Wonder what took her so long?" Dorian.

"I don't know, but she could have let us know she was running off, at least." Cassandra.

"Well, she did come back, that's something." Dorian again.

Cassandra's answering grunt is about as noncommittal as it ever is, but that seems to end the discussion. Lavellan steps past the horses and into camp quietly, laying her armor against her tent. She turns to the fire to see everyone looking at her with varying expressions of annoyance.

"What?" she asks incredulously.

Cassandra pipes up, aggravation clear on her face, "What?! You left camp without letting anyone know where you went, or that you'd gone at all, that's what. I nearly sent out a search party."

Lavellan sighs, smacking her palm to her forehead. "I went to bathe, Cassandra. It's not the first time I've done that, nor will it be the last. Unless I'm gone for more than an hour, please don't send a search party. You'll only embarrass them when they find me naked and scrubbing myself down."

The blush on Cassandra's cheeks shone all the rosier for the light of the campfire, "I- oh. Well... still, you should let someone know."

She smirks, "I'll try to remember to do so."

"Well, good." Cassandra wrings her hands awkwardly for a moment, then leans down and grabs a ration, holding it out for Lavellan. "Here. Eat up."

She hides her amusement as well as she can, moving to grab the ration and seat herself, nodding her thanks.

Cassandra nods, then excuses herself and says goodnight as she heads to her tent, leaving the three mages sitting around the campfire.

Dorian snorts, "Well, that was interesting. Are things always this exciting, or are you just putting on a show for the new person?"

"I assure you, this is no show. Though, I will admit that the Herald disappearing is a new trick." Solas eyes her with a raised eyebrow just as she is about to take the first bite of her ration.

She freezes, looking up like an urchin caught stealing a sweetmeat. She lowers the ration, rolling her eyes, "I already explained my absence. Is this really going to keep haunting me? Because if it is, I'll just take my ration to my tent and let it haunt me in the Fade instead."

She purses her lips, eyebrow raised expectantly as she looks between the other two mages, waiting.

Dorian shrugs and stands, "If anyone is going to be haunting you tonight, it won't be me. I am off to bed dearies. Sleep well!"

She nods, giving him a small smile, "You too, Dorian."

He returns the smile, then heads to his tent, slipping in and tying the flap tightly behind him.

She's about to take a bite again when Solas speaks up, "Sneaking off was entirely unnecessary. You caused panic while you were away."

She nearly throws her untouched ration into the fire. Summoning her vaunted strength of will, she holds onto it. Instead, she glares daggers at him as she maintains eye contact and deliberately takes a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing before she answers.

"The panic was what is unnecessary. I was literally forty paces beyond the horses, in the river. If anyone had bothered to use logic, they could have used their eyes to see the robe and armor laid out by the river, not to mention probably getting an eye full of my naked ass. If either you or Dorian had bothered to reach out five more paces than you had, you would've found me. Perhaps I should have loudly announced to the entire camp that my tits would be on display-"

"That is quite enough," his voice sharply interrupts her, "There is no need to be so crass about our caring for your safety. We were simply worried. If that offends you, perhaps you need to reevaluate your priorities."

She can't keep the shock off of her face. Shock which darkens into anger quickly, flushing her face red as her fist tightens around the ration and crushes it. She tosses it in the fire after all as she stands, insulted to her very core that he would suggest her priorities be anything other than working for the good of all Thedas, that her motives be any less pure than helping to set things right. Maybe she had been wrong not to let anyone know she was going to wash up, but that was no excuse.

Her lips curl, baring her teeth as she growls, turning and summoning her wolf form as she dashes off into the forest. She needs to get away, to calm down before she does something insanely stupid. The skin beneath her fur feels like lava, as if her rage is fueled by something other than herself, overwhelming her other senses. She snorts, hearing the voices from the Well protest her actions, warning her to turn back. She shakes her head stubbornly, charging on until she catches a scent of something small and edible.

She slows her pace, coming to a stop and listening. Whatever it is, it's close. She sniffs, scenting the air, and the scent is strong and sweet, luring her gently toward it. The voices of the Well quiet and calm themselves as she closes in on her prey, seeming to approve the halt of her senseless escape.

She can almost feel the prey now, she hears its little heart pumping blood through its tiny body, hears a croaking little groan from it. It's right in front of her. She lunges, jaws clamping around its neck and bearing down, snapping it cleanly. She begins to strip the skin away from the nug's body, lapping at the oozing warmth of the blood and digging her teeth into its flesh, stripping it off the delicate bones cleanly. The kill has soothed her rage, but she's hungrier than she realized, and she digs into the carcass with renewed fervor, picking it clean in short order.

She huffs a sigh and heads for the river, knowing she needs to clean the blood off before she heads back to camp. It's not the first time she's hunted like this, nor will it be the last. This time feels different, though; that much she can't deny. The rage that overwhelmed her at the beginning was new, something that came - she suspected - as a result of having the wolf god's spirit in her. It is the only thing that could explain such a change in her base personality.

She reaches the river and pads in, dipping her head in and shaking it a few times, letting the water take the sticky evidence of her ferocity downstream. She backs out and shakes herself free of the water and her wolf form. She shrugs out of the top of her robe, letting it fall to the tie at her waist as she splashes water against her face and neck, making sure there's nothing left to betray her activities. She rinses her mouth out, feeling her teeth with her tongue to test for anything stuck between them, then spits as she's satisfied, only to take another mouthful of water to drink.

She sighs a moan at her satisfaction of a full belly and cleanliness, slicking water droplets off of her skin with her hands and slipping the top of her robe back on as she stands. Feeling much better, she turns and heads toward camp. She knows she'll need to apologize to Solas; he didn't deserve the fury she'd displayed. He was right, she should have let someone know she was going off to bathe. She shakes her head at how easily she'd lost her temper. The way she'd taken his words was so far out of proportion to how he'd meant them. She knows this now.

She steps into his view, a penitent look on her face. He is having none of it.

"Yet again you show a lack of priority and propriety. What did you see in that future today that changed you so, little wolf? I hardly recognize you. Even your magic, your very aura is... off somehow. It is as if you are a different person entirely."

She sighs and sits across the campfire from him. She doesn't want to answer. She apologizes instead.

"I'm sorry for... well, growling. And running off like that. You didn't deserve that. I know why I did it, but it was still a gross overreaction."

He seems confused for a moment, "I... that is not what I thought you would say. I forgive you. But I must ask: if you know why you did it, would you tell me? It is confounding me greatly."

She grimaces, "I will, but not now. I need time to think. I'll tell you once we're back at Haven. It's... complicated."

He looks disappointed at first, but reins it in. He looks down at the fire as he speaks, "Very well. You should get some rest anyway. I have first watch. Good night, Fen'da'len."

She sighs, looking at him sadly. She wants to tell him, but the possibility of Cassandra or one of the guards hearing or seeing prevents her. She reaches her magic out to him, letting it pool near enough to him for him to sense it without touching him. His gaze flicks up to meet hers, a question on his face as he fans his magic out to meet hers, testing, sensing. She flares hers up and out, covering him, using the power of the added soul to strengthen the intensity of the cloak she lays across his shoulders.

His eyes widen as he feels it, his magic spreading beneath it to pulse against it, testing again, tasting it. Suddenly, his magic drops completely, his face displaying the shock of recognition clearly. She reins her magic in accordingly, keeping eye contact.

"Now do you understand?"

He swallows thickly, nodding. "What happened? How?"

She shakes her head, "At Haven. I'll tell you everything there," she pauses, gaging his expression, "You aren't going to run, are you?"

He looks perplexed, almost insulted, "Run? Why would I run? You have promised me answers. I believe you. I have no reason to run."

She feels no deception, but she consults the piece of him in her head for confirmation. She receives it. He will not run.

"Alright. I'm heading in. Goodnight, Solas."

"Goodnight, little wolf."

She moves to her tent, prying the flap open and tying it closed behind her snugly. She strips her robe off and threads it over the middle beam, under the leather roof of her tent. She settles into the cot, shaking the furs at the foot and dragging them up over her, resting her head on the stiff pillow and snugging the furs under her chin. As she finally settles, her exhaustion sweeps over her, telling her that attempting Uthenera is out of the question. The hunt has apparently done her in. She sighs, letting the Fade claim her as she slips into sleep gently.

Her eyes open to see... nothing she expects. Instead of the usual shapeless void that always greets her when she first steps foot in the Fade every night, she sees a fully formed scene sprawling out before her. And it is like nothing she's ever seen before. A glittering city in the sky spreads out for miles, twisted crystal spires entwine with the branches of trees that are so wide and tall that they could only have been grown by magic. Huge platforms of glass and wood alike hold various fixtures; some are markets, some are meeting places or small parks, some are places of worship.

She looks down to see a spiral staircase lifting up out of the clouds, wrapping around the tree she is next to, leading the way down to the ground with tasteful prominence. She turns to realize that she is standing on a platform with a small, but beautiful shrine to Fen'Harel himself. It's then that she realizes she's not alone.

A lone elf is standing, looking at the shrine, his back to her. He is in fine white garments lined with gold threading, a gold embroidered black cloak trailing down his back, topped with white fur at his shoulders. His long brown hair is shaved close at the sides and pulled back with a leather thong into a fairly tidy tail that falls elegantly down his neck to pool and mingle with the fur on his shoulders. Her gaze trails down to his bare feet, and her downward trek continues to her own clothing, a beautiful robe tailored to match his outfit perfectly.

Her eyes lift to rest on his back once more, blinking rapidly as she recalls Solas' description of Arlathan. Her breath leaves her in a dizzying whoosh, her mind trying to catch up to what her eyes have seen, trying to comprehend.

Then, she feels it. Magic is everywhere. It tickles her skin, makes the very air she drags into her lungs sparkle with energy, fills her and moves through her as if she were not even there, effortlessly. It suffuses and infuses her, filling her and leaving her empty all at once. It is magnificent.

An elated laugh is pulled from her, almost without her permission, such is her joy at her discovery. At the sound, he turns, a smile on his face. Her eyes drink him in slowly. It is Solas, but not. It is what he should be, what he was always meant to be, though she'd never known it. He is Fen'Harel, the rebel god, in his full power. And he is glorious.

"Hello, little wolf."

She very nearly gasps. Even the sound of his voice is different here; it's melodic, the dulcet tones cascading into her ears like the soft rolling of ocean waves before the crashing crescendo against the shore.

"Hello, Fen'Harel." She smiles, and his smile grows into a grin, bright and beautiful as it touches his eyes, making them shine.

He reaches out to her, offering his hand. She takes it, letting him pull her into his arms as they enfold her, stroking her back sweetly.

He presses her back gently, gesturing to their surroundings as she turns to look, "I am sad to say that you cannot stay long, but I wanted to show you Arlathan as it was in its prime. I am afraid I could not do it justice when I described it to you, but I can give you this memory, at least."

He waves his hand outward and the clouds below them clear with the motion, providing a view of the city beneath them. It sparkles in the sun, pinpoints of light sticking out as it is captured by crystal and fractured into rainbows of color, highlighting one thing and the next, a joyous dance of glimmering light.

Suddenly, they are on the ground, Fen'Harel's hand at her lower back gently guiding her over the white stone ground, bazaars and monuments and shrines catching her eye at every turn. Nothing she could've imagined would ever have come close to this. She looks up, the sheer height of the trees forming a sparse roof for the city making her unsteady on her feet. She is absolutely certain that if he didn't have his hand on her back, she would fall flat on her ass, and be perfectly happy to sit there, staring for eternity.

He seems to sense her thoughts and chuckles lightly, "Believe me, little wolf, I understand your wonder. I was much like you, the first time I saw it. It is still beautiful, even now. Come, I want to show you something."

She blinks, and finds herself in a vast chamber of mixed stones, the colors blending and bleeding into each other seamlessly to create portraits of wolves in various scenes. Many are battles, others tell a story, still others depict worshipers bringing offerings to the wolves. Great wooden doors that are heavy and thick enough to be city gates lead to other areas in the temple, but this room is the beating heart of this monument to Fen'Harel. Her gaze drifts to the center of the back wall, the murals becoming more and more grand and elaborate, until the culmination in a depiction of Fen'Harel himself in his wolf form, six blue eyes looking forward and watching over the throne below it.

As she moves closer, she realizes that it is not just a stone mural, but a statue, looming enormously over the throne. It towers over her, mouth open, its tongue curling up over its lip as if licking its chops while looking hungrily at a juicy meal. It is meant to frighten and intimidate, but she feels neither emotion. Instead, she feels... kinship. Belonging.

She finds her arm is outstretched toward the hungry visage, as if she could touch it despite its height. She blushes and retracts her arm, looking back to see if Fen'Harel had noticed her folly. He has, but he is smiling fondly, rather than mockingly.

He comes to stand next to her, looking down at her openly, "Would you like to see it?"

"It?"

He gestures to the statue, "The real one."

Her eyes widen in excitement, "Yes!" she blushes as her outburst, "Please, if that's alright."

He chuckles, nodding. He reaches up and unhooks the clasp on his cloak, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. He steps to the side, giving himself room, then begins to cast. His eyes glow blue against black as a dark smoke pours from them, drifting down to encircle his arms, waist, legs; covering him thickly as he falls forward in a motion that is all to familiar to her, landing on very large black paws. He shakes himself, the smoke dissipating quickly, and he looks at her with all six eyes, regarding her steadily.

Her eyes drift over him slowly, taking in every detail of the unique shape of his head, watching as he sits, perhaps to make himself less threatening? There is no need. She does not feel threatened. She feels... elation, curiosity, fascination, a desire to touch his fur overwhelms the rest.

She reaches out slowly, palm up, looking at him for permission. Just as he had for her. He moves closer, nudging under her hand as she had for him. She gives him a lopsided smile as she strokes up his nose, between his eyes, then letting her hand fall away, as he had.

He is having none of it. He walks right up to her, face to face as tall as he is, and licks a giant swath from her chin to her forehead.

She'd closed her eyes tightly on reflex at the wet assault, but now that it was over, she carefully lets one eye open, looking at him with her face still scrunched up. If a wolf can grin, he is doing it. And panting happily while he's at it.

Fen'Harel, in wolf form, is grinning like a happy fool.

She can't help but grin in response. She brings her hands up and strokes the sides of his face, watching as he closes his eyes in enjoyment. His fur is far softer than it looks, feeling as soft as fennec fur, though it looks course and rough. While he has his eyes closed, she reaches back and scratches behind his ears, then as he starts to dip his head and groan in enjoyment, she plants a chaste kiss on his nose.

He sits up straight and his eyes open, all six of them focusing in on her intensely. He blinks, shaking his upper body as if trying to shake off a chill, then leans forward and licks her cheek.

She raises a coy eyebrow, regarding him curiously. He leans forward and licks her other cheek.

She holds his head in her hands, gently leaning his head down so she can plant another chaste kiss on the bridge of his nose, following with a short trail of kisses up to his brow.

Before she can plant the last one just above his first set of eyes, he backs up, giving a groaning huff as if the loss of contact pains him. He shakes himself free of his wolf form and grasps her waist, crashing his lips to hers hungrily as his hands pull her flush against him, one trailing up her back and one down to her ass, his tongue seeking entrance into her mouth and finding it as she gasps at his hand cupping and squeezing her ass greedily.

Her hands reach out to tangle in his hair, sliding the leather thong off and carding her fingers through his thick tresses as her tongue tangles with his, giving a broken moan as her heart soars at the sudden turn of events. His magic envelops her, a warming presence full of emotion and need. She gently pushes back, caressing his magic with hers, imitating the feeling of his tongue on hers, his lips on hers. She pours in her own emotions, her own need, and feels his rise in response.

Suddenly, his magic is gone, no longer pressing against hers. She lets hers dissipate as well, her confusion evident on her face as he ends the kiss. They are both breathing heavily, and she sees his eyes - darkened with lust - drifting over her form hungrily for a moment before he closes them tightly. He opens them as his breath slows, letting out a frustrated huff as he leans in and graces her forehead with a chaste kiss.

"As much as I wish to take you, here and now, I cannot. You must go now, my heart. I love you. Remember that when I am difficult. No matter what, remember that."

His smile is full of warmth, though his eyes betray his sadness before he leans down to brush his lips along the shell of her ear, his voice barely a whisper when he speaks.

"Wake up."


	7. Chapter 7

She wakes with a start, her heart thrumming against her ribs painfully as she almost chokes on her first waking breath. The sudden lack of magic in the air, the return of her normal senses, her transition to her physical body, all of it is jarring.

Her realization of the depth of what the world had lost creates an angry, devouring hole in the pit of her gut. The pain of it easily outstrips the pain she had once felt at the loss of her _vhenan_. She sits up quickly, hands grasping for purchase on the edge of her cot, using it as an anchor against the storm of the loss she is feeling. It is beyond anything she could have imagined; too painful for even tears to soothe. She clutches her chest, face twisted in agony, limbs shaking uncontrollably as it sinks into her very soul, a permanent reminder of what was lost.

The voices from the Well seem to waken now, rising up inside her to soothe with words of consolation; words that will not fill the gaping hole, but do smooth out the edges somewhat. Her heart begins to slow its staccato beat, her breaths become more even. She slides her legs over the side of the cot, shifting her grip to the single rail as she takes several calming breaths.

She's just begun to reconcile her feelings, when she senses a familiar influx of magic reaching out to her. The same magic that had only moments ago enveloped her in passion and love, within the visions of Fen'Harel's memory of Arlathan.

She takes a deep breath, letting it rattle out of her as she tries to bring her trembling under control. She gently reaches out and brushes her magic against his, though her emotional state makes the brush more of a lash, unintentionally.

She growls in frustration with herself, trying again and managing to grasp a tendril of his quickly retreating magic to hold it gently, letting hers rub against his more calmly in apology. A hesitant, softer reply of affirmation trails a subtle line along her magic, before retreating naturally.

She sighs and lets her magic dissipate, propping her elbows on her knees and letting her head sink into her hands. Her shaking is almost under control, but she doesn't feel emotionally capable of leaving her tent right now.

These thoughts flee as she hears the light padding of bare feet on dirt coming to rest just outside her tent, watching as the mouth of the tent jiggles with the motion of someone untying the flap. The light from the fire pours in around his silhouette as he pulls the flap open, poking his head in cautiously.

"Are you alright, little wolf? I felt a massive disturbance of magic from you, just before I heard you wake."

She nods, unable to trust that her voice won't betray her. She returns her hands to the side rail of her cot to hide any tremors.

She can barely make out his face for the light behind him, but what she can see looks vaguely puzzled.

"Are you sure? Do you need anything?" his voice is concerned, but cautious, almost suspicious.

She shakes her head, "No, thank you."

She nearly sighs with relief that her voice is steadier than her hands would be if they weren't clenched to her cot rail.

He pauses, seeming to deliberate his next actions. The silence drags on for several seconds before he breaks it.

"It is time for second watch, if you are up to it. I can wake one of the others, if you prefer."

She shakes her head again, "No, I'm awake. I'll be out in a moment."

He sighs and nods, accepting her answer. "Very well. There is a ration on the bench and coffee next to it."

He gives what looks to be a small smile before he ducks back out, letting the tent flap slap shut gently behind him, leaving it untied. She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She takes a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly and forcing her muscles to relax, trying to calm her heartbeat. It works, somewhat. She notes that the shaking has lessened, as she lifts her hands away from the cot to hover in front of her. There's only a slight tremble now, one that will go away soon.

A chill runs down her spine, waking her up to the fact that it's gotten colder since she went to sleep. She'll need the warmth of her robe when she goes outside. An errant thought slips through her mind that Solas had seen her bare shoulders and some of her back, though the furs still clinging to her chest had covered the rest. She snorts at the petty thought; it isn't the first time he's seen more than that, most likely. Laughing at her ridiculousness does help ease the tension she is feeling though, so perhaps it isn't such a bad thought after all.

She sighs and lets the furs fall from her form as she reaches for her robe, standing as much as she can and slipping it on, tying the sash tightly around her waist. She smooths herself down, running her fingers through her hair and chiding herself for forgetting to braid it before she slept.

She slips out of her tent, grabbing her staff and hurrying over to the spot where Solas has laid out the ration and still steaming cup of coffee on the log bench. She rests her staff beside her and picks up the coffee, taking a tentative sip. It is hot, nearly burning her lips and tongue, but she doesn't care. She holds the cup in her hands, letting it keep them warm as her eyes look up to see him watching her with a curious, but guarded expression. There are questions dying to bubble past his lips, that much she can tell without having to ask the version of him she carries in her head.

She would smirk and ask him why he is staring at her normally, but it's all too obvious to try playing innocent now.

"Why wait until Haven? We are completely alone right now; Dorian and Cassandra are fast asleep, as are the guard I relieved and the requisition officer. If you wished for privacy, we have it now."

She sighs, looking down at her coffee as if she could find an answer within its black, pooling depths that would dissuade him from insisting on haste.

"It's not just privacy. Remember the place I took you, the clearing?"

He nods, "Of course."

"Once we get to Haven, give me two hours and meet me there. That will give me time to deal with some of the fallout from this mission and talk to everybody. It'll take at least that before they'll let me slip away anyway."

His eyebrows crease together, consternation marring his face. "I do not see the point in waiting that long. Explain your reasoning to me."

She gives an annoyed sigh that deflates her, "Solas, just please save it until Haven. I need time to prepare and you'll need time after to adjust. Just drop it for now, please."

For a few seconds, she's afraid he'll fight her on it. She sees the moment he gives in.

"Very well, though I do not see why it is so imperative to delay a simple explanation. However, if it will keep you from running off to hunt alone again, I will wait."

Her eyebrows fly up in surprise, "I wouldn't... _fenedhis_, Solas, I already apologized for that. I meant it. Besides, if you were so worried that I was hunting alone, you could have joined me."

Shit. It had slipped out before she could stop it. She tries to keep the fact that she'd just shown her hand so blatantly off of her face. She manages it. Mostly.

His look of surprise shifts to denial, then slowly to scrutiny as he stares at her. "What do you mean by that? I could not hunt as you hunted, I cannot take on a form beside my own. I would only have slowed you down."

'_He's trying to play it off?'_ she wonders,_ 'Or fish for information,'_ her mind helpfully supplies. _'Why, at this point? He has to know what's going on, he recognized his magic last night.'_

She gives a simple, logical answer to throw him off for now.

"Surely you've hunted for food before? Living on your own for so long wouldn't have been possible without knowing how to hunt." She moves her coffee to the bench beside her and grabs the ration, unfolding the wrapping and taking a bite as she looks at him expectantly.

"Of course, but as I said, I only would have slowed you down if I had joined you. And you seemed rather keen on getting away from me at the time, so my intrusion would have been unwelcome, no doubt."

She swallows the food in her mouth and sighs, regret clouding her features. "Solas, I'm sorry. I know I was an ass last night. You didn't deserve that, though you were being a bit pushy. But I understand why."

He tilts his head to the side, concerned. "I was simply worried for your safety. If I came off as pushy, I am sorry. But it was not without good reason."

She nods, "I know. I'll get over it. In the meantime though, you should get some sleep. You know Cass will wake you when the sun rises."

He hums his agreement, "Yes, you have a point," he stands slowly and turns, calling over his shoulder as he heads to his tent, "goodnight, Fen'da'len."

"Goodnight, Solas," she replies softly.

She finishes off the ration, tossing her now lukewarm coffee down her throat to wash the ration down, sighing as she settles in to do very little but keep guard for the next two hours. The thought of trying Uthenera occurs to her, but she sweeps it away. She has to remain alert, and she's not entirely sure if being in Uthenera would allow for that, even if she was fully awake. She decides it's best to leave that for after they get to Skyhold. There, she'll have time to delve into it properly.

She busies her mind with making plans for troop movements and going through the events at Haven from the last time. She'd managed to save most of the people she had any opportunity to save the last time, but there was one that had been left behind. She wants to make sure she doesn't make the same mistake this time. If she has the chance to do everything again, she should do it better. And she will.

She looks up, using the stars to gage how much time had passed while she'd been planning. An hour, approximately. She huffs a sigh and snugs her robe closed a bit tighter, flexing her fingers and sending a small spark of fire to the campfire to encourage a bit more warmth.

Her eyes drift to Dorian's tent, pondering how her revealing the truth to him would effect the future. Of all her companions, beside Solas himself, Dorian is the most likely to have the sense to let events play out as they may. She doesn't worry for his silence; she knows he would never be ignorant enough to spill her secret to anyone. Even drunk, Dorian is a formidable player of the Game.

She only worries that sharing her stress with him might alter his mental state enough to cause him distress. He has enough to deal with, without adding her issue to the pile. But he seems to be accepting it without trouble for now. She hopes that remains the case. As long as he stays steady, there's no cause to-

Oh, shit.

Cole.

"_Fenedhis_," she curses quietly, as dread courses through her. Cole's complete lack of a filter could ruin everything. While in some cases, he has the most uncanny sense of discretion, it is usually the most undermining things that he blurts out for everyone around him to hear. She would need to take the first opportunity she could to speak to him on the way to Skyhold, or at the very least once they arrived, before he had a chance to speak to anyone else there. She'd completely forgotten about him. Ironic, to say the least.

She would give almost anything for some means to block him out, some way to prevent him from hearing her every thought. Despite the anchor and the Well, he had always been able to feel her pain, especially if she was trying to hide it.

That stuffs it then. She will have to tell him everything. Once he knows, he'll have nothing to blurt out from her head except the things that come up randomly, just like last time.

She snorts. So much for keeping her knowledge a secret as long as possible. Dorian already knows, soon Sol... Fen'Harel will know, and she'll have to bring Cole in on the situation not long after.

Chuckling, she leans back on the log bench and gazes up at the stars, shaking her head at the ludicrousness of the whole thing. She hears Fen'Harel chuckling right along with her somewhere in the recesses of her mind, though the voices from the Well maintain their stoic silence. For now.

A muffled thump shakes her from her reverie, the sound issuing out of Dorian's tent. She drags herself to her feet, slowly plodding toward the mage's impromptu quarters, untying the flap and poking her head in to see him wrestling himself free of his furs, on the ground next to his cot.

She chuckles, "Having issues?"

"AH!" his wide eyes are a twin to his open mouth as he looks at her in shock, "_Kaffas_, you could've at least said something before you just showed up! Are you trying to frighten me to death?"

She can't help but grin, "Sorry Dorian, I heard a thump and thought you might need help. Need a hand up?"

He waves her offering away, "No, but thank you. I'm not used to this whole roughing it thing quite yet. Cots are rather more narrow than what I usually sleep in. But, not to worry, I will adjust."

She chuckles, "I'm not worrying Dorian." she lowers her voice and leans in a bit, "But I will need to talk to you once we get back to Haven. There's... some complications."

He nods, finally freeing himself from the furs in the process. "Understood."

"Anyway, since you're awake, it's third watch, which means you're up for the next two hours. Come on," she waves her hand toward her, holding the tent flaps open as he groans and makes his way out, snugging his slightly rumpled robe around him tighter.

She smirks, "You know, you don't have to wear your robe to bed. I never do. The cots are usually more comfortable without clothing."

He raises an eyebrow, "Good to know. Is there any coffee?"

She shakes her head, "No, but I can make some. Give me a few minutes and I'll have some ready. In the meantime," she grabs a ration from the supply cache and hands it to him, "eat up. This is breakfast for you unless Cassandra feels like cooking when you wake her."

"The Seeker cooks? I never would've guessed."

She snickers, "Never judge a book by it's cover, Dorian. You should know this better than anyone by now. We all cook, though Solas makes the best tea. Ironic, considering he hates tea."

Surprise flickers across his face, "How can anyone hate tea?"

She shrugs, "Got me. Though I suspect he doesn't add any honey. That could explain it."

He shakes his head, "What an odd elf."

She snorts, "Just slightly."

She sighs and sets off for the river to get some water for the coffee, grabbing a pot along the way. She spies her small clothes hanging on the branch where she left them and reaches for them as she approaches, testing their dryness. Still a little damp, but nothing that can't be taken care of with a flame-less fire spell. The same one she remembers being used on her after her flight from Haven by Solas. No, by Fen'Harel.

She sighs, wondering if she'll ever get used to that. If she were any other elf, any other person; if her personal favorite in the elvhen pantheon hadn't always been him... she never could have accepted it. Her clan had never understood her fascination, never joined her praise of the Dread Wolf, never reveled in caring for his image as she had.

Careful respect and suspicion was the best they could ever offer him. But not her, no; she had always been thrilled by the idea of his rebellious nature, always listened with rapt attention when Keeper Deshanna would tell the tales of Fen'Harel.

Her favorite was the story of his slow arrow, where a village had asked for his help against a monster that was terrorizing the people living there. He had laughed and shot a single arrow into the sky, then left. The following night, the monster attacked, killing everyone in the village except the children. As the feral beast turned its gaze on the defenseless young ones, an arrow fell from the sky and pierced through the monster's skull, killing it. Thus, the children of the village lived on, the village was saved.

It was meant to be a cautionary tale, one to indicate that the trickster god had deceived the villagers, despite saving their children.

Fen'da'len had always believed the story to have a deeper meaning, however. That the 'children' of the village were slaves, and the 'adults' their masters. That Fen'Harel had freed the slaves with his slow arrow.

She believes her version of the story to this very moment. As she dips to fill the pot with water, she feels the divine presence in her brush against her mind, a sense of delight coursing through her. _'Is this affirmation? Is my version of the story correct?'_ she wonders. A vision of a sly grin flashes before her eyes so quickly she nearly misses it. She takes it as confirmation, chuckling and shaking her head as she lifts the filled pot from the river.

She sets it aside and disrobes, sparking her heat spell along her hands as she picks up her underclothes, slipping them on and shrugging her robe back on over them quickly. She picks up the pot and shuffles back to camp with a smile. She works the warming spell through the water, heating it so it wouldn't have to spend long on the fire.

Dorian looks up as he notices her approach. "Oh thank the Maker, I thought I'd have to go looking for you."

She raises an eyebrow, "I wasn't gone that long, Dorian. I just went to the river to get water and grab my small clothes..." she trails off as she notices his eyes widen.

"Dorian, what's wrong?" she sets the pot down on the stand over the fire, sitting on the bench across from him.

He looks unsure as he responds, "Are you absolutely certain that you just got water and knickers at the river?"

She gives an incredulous look, "Yes, I'm sure. Why are you asking me such a strange question? What else could I have done at the river? Put on a song and dance routine for the future Fade walkers that might sleep there?"

"As amusing as that would be, no. But clearly something happened, my dear. Your eyes are glowing in a most disturbing fashion. I don't know how you're doing that, but I would greatly appreciate it if you'd stop."

She blinks, once, twice. "What?! Glowing? Are you- you're shitting me, right?"

He shakes his head, "I'm afraid not," he fishes around distractedly in his robe and produces a small, flat, round object, "look for yourself."

She takes it and opens the small clasp to reveal a mirror - because of _course_, Dorian would carry a mirror on him, of all things - and looks to see the same eyes staring back at her that she'd seen on Fen'Harel in his temple, just before he'd shifted into his wolf form. A startled gasp escapes her lips as she nearly drops the mirror at the sight.

She looks back up at Dorian with shock on her face, "I have... no idea how to make it stop. He warned me I shouldn't keep it long, oh gods, how am I going to hide this?"

"Who warned you? And keep what? Care to fill the confused mage in, my dear?"

She closes the mirror and hands it back to him, motioning for him to follow as she heads toward the river. Thankfully, he follows after only a moment's hesitation, his curiosity apparently outweighing his caution. When they are not quite to the river, she turns and holds her hand up for him to stop.

"When we were in the future, did you see what happened just before we came back through the portal?"

He huffs, "Not unless you mean everyone dying and me dragging you through the portal just in time to keep a monstrosity from clubbing you in the head. What does that have to do with your eyes glowing?"

She pins him with a look that could make even the most steady man falter, "Everything. Before you pulled me through, Fen'Harel transfered his... spirit, his essence to me. Apparently I'm his vessel or... something. I don't quite understand it all yet. But when you pulled me through, it was different than before. I could feel the time moving, and just before I was supposed to exit, time stopped. And he spoke to me."

He crosses his arms, motioning with one hand to continue, "Well, what did he say?"

"He told me that I shouldn't keep him for long, or it would cause trouble. He also said... well, he said he gave me a gift. And told me to enjoy my long life. I think he gave me the immortality of the ancient elvhen. I've felt different ever since then, and not just because of him in my head, it's something else. I think I can enter Uthenera. I've had this consistent feeling of being able to enter the Fade while awake. That might have been what happened while I was getting water, but I don't see how that made my eyes glow like him." She shrugs helplessly and buries her face in her hands as she plops down on a stump.

He gives a shocked half laugh, "Well aren't you a special flower? Does anything normal ever happen around you, or is it always this chaotic?"

She snorts, lowering her hands to look at him, "I wish something normal would happen. You would not believe what I saw in the Fade while I slept."

"Oh, I don't know, I'd believe just about anything at this point."

She chuckles, "I saw Arlathan. And Fen'Harel's temple. And Fen'Harel in his wolf form, which he freely offered to show me. And magic was everywhere, it was everything, the air I breathed, the ground beneath my feet, the light pouring through crystal branches twining through the trees... it was indescribable. This world lost far more than a beautiful city. It lost almost all of the magic, Dorian. The world we know now wasn't separate from the Fade. It was all one place. It was pure and beautiful and _right_."

She is on the edge of tears by the time she stops, unable to continue. She shakes her head and gives a sigh that hitches in her throat.

"It sounds beautiful. And frightening. And awe-inspiring. I can only imagine how you managed to recover from waking out of that much majesty. It must've been horrible. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

She gives him a sad smile, "Thank you. But it wouldn't have mattered. It would've been difficult no matter who was there to assist. Knowing what we lost, that is my burden, and his. I think his goal is to tear down the veil. Having seen what I have, I'm not sure whether I should stand in his way or help him. This world isn't ready for that, but when would it ever be? Even if we managed to educate everyone - which we couldn't - this world would never truly be ready for such a drastic change. I don't know what to think."

"I don't either. I'll have to think on it. That's a lot to take in. But I do know your eyes have finally stopped glowing. And that if I'm supposed to be watching the camp, I should probably actually be at camp, don't you think?"

She takes a sharp breath, "Right! Yes, you should be. And I should be in bed. Oh, gods, the coffee!"

She hears him chuckle as she bounds up and speeds past him, dashing toward the campfire to finish making the coffee before the water completely evaporates. The crisis is averted, barely. Soon she moves over to Dorian, steaming cup of black liquid in hand.

"Here. Hope it's alright, I think I caught it in time. I should get to bed before I don't get any more sleep at all."

He takes it with a smile, "Thank you, darling," he looks up at the sky, gaging the time with a slight grimace, "Though it looks like I've only got a half hour or so before waking the Seeker. I may just skip the coffee for now, leave it for her."

Her gaze lifts to the sky, "Damn, you're right. Well, go on then, go back to bed. I can hold out for another half hour by myself."

"Are you certain? I can stay up, it's not a problem."

She smiles back down at him, "I'm sure, Dorian. Go, get your beauty rest."

He chuckles, "Well that does make it sound more tempting. Before I go, however, I want to give you something."

He reaches into his robe and pulls out the small mirror he'd let her use earlier, handing it to her.

She shakes her head, "But that's yours. I don't want to deprive you of it."

He places it in her hand and folds her fingers over it gently, "I have an identical one in my horse's pack, dear. I'll live, and you need this more than I do with that little problem of yours," he comments, tapping just beside his left eye socket.

She nods acceptingly, "Fair enough, and you're probably right. Thank you."

He sets the coffee down on the bench beside him, "I know I'm right. And you're welcome, anytime. Anyway, off to bed with me. Nighty-night."

She waves, "Night, Dorian."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The rest of the trip back to Haven is rather uneventful, thankfully enough. The sight of the town's gates is more than welcoming when she finally lays eyes on them, dismounting from her horse and handing the reins off to Master Dennet with a thankful nod. She strips her pack from behind the saddle and slings it over her shoulder as she trudges toward the gates. She'll need to put what she can from that pack in her robes before nightfall. Before Haven falls.

Thankfully, she has some time before then. They arrived fairly early, the sun hadn't even reached its peak yet. Plenty of time to speak to everyone, close the Breach, and await disaster. She drops the pack off just inside the door to her house and heads up to start her rounds with Leliana.

She's been considering what she could do to lessen casualties for weeks now, even made a few discrete orders to bolster the walls and construct the trebuchets slightly early, ordering they be manned at all times. It's something. Whether it will help or not is a matter for debate, but even if it doesn't, at least they are that much better prepared. Warning her advisors won't help them prepare, and may just affect their decision making. That is not what she, or the people in Haven need. Casualties are unavoidable. She's done everything she can to lessen them, but they're going to happen. The thought makes bile rise in her throat that she has to swallow back down.

She speaks to her advisors quickly, going over the plans for closing the Breach. She speaks to Fiona and tells her to select her very best mages for the task ahead. She speaks to Varric, telling him to go ahead with planning a little party in celebration. Let them enjoy themselves while they can. She speaks to Sera for a few minutes, though she doesn't have much to say. Next, she heads to Dorian. She doesn't see Fen'Harel in his usual spot outside his house, so she assumes he's inside it for once.

Dorian's not outside either. She knocks on his door and hears him reply, "Come on in, just unpacking!"

She opens the door and slides in, closing it behind her, speaking in hushed tones when she reaches his side, "Dorian, we need to be very quiet, or go somewhere else. He, "she jerks her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of Fen'Harel's house, "has very good hearing."

Understanding dawns on his face and he nods, ushering her out the door as he follows her. They stroll behind his house to the side of the Chantry, back in the corner before he places his finger over his lips to indicate silence, then begins casting a spell she doesn't recognize. It covers them like a barrier, except there's air between them which is surrounded by the barrier as well. She raises an eyebrow in question as he removes his finger from his lips.

"Privacy barrier. Talk quickly, I can only keep it going for so long."

She nods, "Alright, there's a complication. A young man named Cole will show up tonight, just outside the gate. He is a spirit who's taken the form of a human. Don't ask. He's a spirit of compassion, won't hurt us. Trust him. But he can read minds. Can read pain. His favorite past time is blurting out your most sensitive, deepest pain and trying to help you work it out. Or just saying something really embarrassing that's in your head at the time. Either way, he's a blabbermouth. And he's going to blow our cover. I need to somehow pull him aside-"

Dorian holds his hand up to stop her, "Out of mana."

He releases the spell, slumping against a wall as he rests. She sighs and hands him a lyrium potion. He raises an eyebrow, uncorking and tipping it at her in thanks, then downs it. He re-casts the spell quickly.

She pours her power into him so it isn't so short-lived this time, "I need to pull him aside and explain things to him and pray to all the gods he gets it, because otherwise he will ruin us all by sheer accident."

He seems to think on it a moment before he responds, "So he's a spirit of compassion, not a demon? He's not possessing the boy he appears to be?"

She shakes her head, "No, he is very driven to help people, he's got a heart of gold. He's just got no filter on that whole reading people's pain and blurting it out for everyone to hear thing. It's annoying sometimes, but he means well no matter what he does. He's just... misguided at times. Also, he can make anyone forget that he was ever there. Or forget certain memories if it's needed or asked for. It's a part of the way he helps."

"He sounds dangerous. Are you sure he's trustworthy?"

She nods, "Yes, if I can get him to realize what's going on in our heads before he blabs it to everyone, he's extremely trustworthy. If I can show him what he is to us in the future, maybe I can convince him. He is everyone's friend by the time this is all over, we'd almost all die to protect him."

He raises an eyebrow, "Almost all?"

She rolls her eyes, "Vivienne has an issue with him. She thinks he's a demon, and she never gets past that thought. Too fearful."

"Ah, yes. I can see how that might be problematic. Also, that's a nifty little trick you're doing with the mana channeling, where did you learn that?"

She smirks, "Old elvhen trick. Anyway, I have to go meet Fen'Harel. My time is up. Wish me luck."

He nods, his face serious, "Good luck, dear. I hope it goes well."

She sighs heavily, "You're not the only one. And thanks."

He nods with a small smile and dispels the magic quickly, heading to his house as she heads to the gates. She weaves her way through the throngs of Chantry folk, villagers and mages crowding Haven now, smiling and nodding to those who recognize her as she passes. When she is finally free of the gates, she smiles and waves to Cullen on her way out. He's become used to her taking frequent walks outside the village, so he doesn't question them anymore, but he does try to get her attention this time.

"Solas headed the same direction as your usual walk takes you not five minutes ago, Herald. I thought you should know you might run into him."

She smiles, "Thank you, Cullen. It's no bother. We probably won't even walk the same path."

He nods in return, "True enough. Have a good walk then."

She gives a small bow of her head in thanks, "Thank you."

He returns the bow, then sends his attention to a recruit that hasn't blocked well enough and is now freely bleeding from his nose. "Maker's breath recruit, go see a healer. Maybe that will teach you to block with your shield and not your face next time."

She hears his long-suffering sigh as she snickers and keeps an even pace into the woods. As soon as she is far enough in that she can't see out behind her, she transforms, calling her wolf as she falls forward into a dead run, charging the thick underbrush. She heads straight for the clearing, her nose picking up Fen'Harel's scent strongly along the way; leather and wolf fur, pine and earth with a hint of clean, cool rain.

She bursts into the clearing and feels his magic pooling there before she even sees him. His back is turned; he's seated in apparent meditation, though she knows he's aware of her presence. She shakes the wolf off and stands, drawing closer with gentle footsteps in the grass and flowers surrounding her feet. He's sitting in the center of the clearing, eyes closed as she steps around him, perfectly still and at peace.

She mimics his posture as she softly lowers herself with her legs crossed into a sitting position, deciding that she could do with some meditation as well, if that is what he intends to keep doing. She takes a breath in, filling her lungs with the gentle scent of the flowers and clean grass, then slowly lets it out. Her eyes flutter closed, letting calm serenity overtake her mind, blanking her thoughts and centering herself. Peace washes over her in waves, allowing her to relax for the first time in weeks. Gods, she needed this.

Images begin to flutter at the edges of her blank landscape, flickers here and there, nothing discernible, but worrisome nonetheless. This isn't normal. Usually she can maintain the blank void for hours, but something else is invading her thoughts. She knows it's not the well, it's never bothered her in this manner before. It could be the extra spirit she carries, but that doesn't feel quite right either. Curiosity overcoming her, she opens her eyes. Nothing has changed. Her eyebrow raises, then lowers in a frown. She's almost let her lids slide completely closed when she sees his flutter, on the verge of opening. She opens hers in anticipation, waiting patiently.

But it is not his eyes that open first.

"Do you usually automatically join a person in meditation, little wolf, or am I a special case?" The smirk on his lips tells her he's not angry, his eyes conveying his amusement as the lids over them slip open.

She pretends to ponder the question, "Well, it depends, really. Generally, when I've already declared a meeting place and find the person I've come to meet meditating, it's only polite to join them."

He tilts his head, the amused smirk sharpening fractionally, "That is prudent, I agree. However, I am not here for meditation, little wolf. I am here for the answers you promised."

She leans in, staring him down, "What is the question you seek an answer to? Do not lie, Pride."

His eyebrow raises at her using the interpretation of his chosen name, "I had not intended to, little wolf. But I admit, I am curious what you expect of me; what question it is you think I will ask."

She gives a small, mirthless laugh, "I expect you to lie, Pride. But, perhaps you will surprise me. It is high past time, if that be the case."

Anger steals across his features, though he tempers it, barely, "I have not lied to you, little wolf."

She laughs at him. She shouldn't, but she does. And gods, does it feel good. A warning nip from the divinity in her makes her calm herself, but she is still amused as she regains her focus on his eyes.

"You have lied in more ways than I can count, Pride. But I will forgive you. Because I must. Because I understand the deception, far better than you realize. Because I have never truly held ill will against you, even in your darkest moment and mine."

He sneers at her, "If you have come to speak in mocking riddles, I will have no part in it. You may riddle the trees, if you wish."

He moves to leave, but she grasps his arm. He tries to yank free, but finds he can't, consternation and confusion marring his face at his discovery.

"Release me!"

"No. You will sit. And you will listen."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The grip on his arm is far stronger than it should be. There is far more strength in that grasp than the small, taunting creature before him had ever had. Curiosity makes him relent. His interest is fully piqued now; he will not leave until he has the answers he seeks. He will listen, if that is what it takes. It isn't until he has fully returned to his previously seated position that she releases his arm, her features smoothing into an infuriating calm that he cannot replicate. But oh, he tries to.

"Very well, little wolf. Spin your tale, I will listen. But I warn you, if you spin a web of lies, you will choke on it."

He calls her little wolf half as a term of endearment, half as a slight now. It had only been endearment for weeks now, but she is taunting and insulting him now. The mere fact that he tolerates it at all is a sign of how dear she is to him.

"I spin no lies, Pride. That is your job. And do not try to deny that you have lied. I know the truth. I see through your deceptions into who and what you really are, and I will hear no more lies from your lips. If you wish that which would join you, either one, you will speak truth and let the lies release you from their grasp."

He growls. More cryptic nonsense. Or is it? He isn't sure. Surely she can't possibly know the real truth. His gaze traces the slave brands on her face and neck, the brands that bind her to him in her ignorance. In the ignorance of her entire people, the people he once tried to save. The people who now reject him and see him as betrayer.

He decides to test her. She knows nothing, surely. There is no harm in playing a game with her.

"If you know so much, little wolf, then say my name properly. I will even say yours, if you prefer."

An offer to sweeten the deal while testing her.

A smirk pulls at her lips, "If you insist; though you need not change your version of my name, only your tone, Fen'Harel."

Everything stops. His heart, his breath, the very fabric of time feels frozen as his real name passes through those tender lips. His eyes are fixed on hers, wide in shock as he can _feel_ the curve of her lips pulling upward into a wicked smile that tells him she knows she's won.

Anger rushes away as if a cool river has diverted its course to flow over him and wash it all away, leaving only shock, wonderment, and fear. He has been so careful, so particular in how much information he's given, so careful in his web of constructed lies. And now _he_ is the one choking on it.

A snicker issues from the creature in front of him, "I've rendered the Dread Wolf speechless. I should mark the day. What an accomplishment!" she smiles, but it is somehow not unkind.

"Would you like to hear my proposal, Fen'Harel?"

He stares at her, wondering at how she can be so calm, so collected. He nods, despite his dread at what she might say.

"Very well. I propose that you never again lie to me. That you tell me the truth when I ask it. Because I know who you are now, Fen'Harel. I can call you in Uthenera to my side as quickly as you can to me, and rip the truth from your dreams. You will not lie to me again. In return, I will give you that which is yours, as well as that which is truly only mine to give."

He snorts, "First, you cannot enter Uthenera. You are not an immortal elvhen. Second, I have no idea what it is you are speaking of. You have nothing of mine to give, and I do not desire anything which you can give beside the mending of the rifts."

He is sure of himself. She may know who he is, but she has no idea what she is talking about. She has nothing he needs beside the magic from the anchor, which he already knows he will need his foci to retrieve. If it isn't already tied to her soul, at least. Even if it is, that is not the worst loss. His foci will have more than enough power for his plans.

He watches as she tilts her head, open curiosity written across her face, "Is that really all you see, Fen'Harel? Are you truly certain? Perhaps it would behoove you to look before you leap into a chasm of ignorance."

At her last words, he begins to see something impossible. Her eyes darken, then illuminate, blue against black, the smoke of divinity seeping from the corners of her eyes, thin though it may be, to curl around her arms in a pattern that he recognizes all too well. He grips her arms in his hands, trying to block the magic flowing through her before she can finish casting. The panic is sure to be clear in his eyes as they flick over her face, desperation in his voice as he begs her not to do this.

"Stop! No, do not do this, lethallan, please! It will kill you! Please!"

He watches, horror stricken as she pushes him off and back, finishing the spell and transforming before him into his wolf. Only, it's smaller. After a few moments, he realizes it is her wolf and his, a perfect blend. Six blue eyes, but on her wolf's small frame. He can tell she's having trouble holding the shape, but she struggles on, taking small, painful steps toward him. On the last step, she falters, whimpering pitifully as her front legs wobble and give out, crashing her upper body to the ground in a bowing position. Her back legs struggle to hold the rest of her up. He cannot take any more.

"Please, lethallan, change back," he moves to his hands and knees and leans down to lower his face to hers, "Please, I beg you. This ancient magic is not meant to be used by any but the gods themselves, it will kill you if you persist."

Her back legs give out as her rump joins the rest of her on the ground. Why is she holding out? What does she want? She stretches her neck forward and licks the tip of his nose, then collapses, her eyes beginning to drift closed.

"NO! No, no, no, no, not like this, not like this!"

Then, it hits him, "I agree. I agree to your proposal. Is that what you want?"

She gives a weak wag of her tail in response, too weak to do anything else.

"Then yes, if it will save your life, I agree. Please, lethallan, give up this lethal exercise. I agree."

A great sigh of relief issues from her as she slowly shakes from one side to the other, dismissing the magic. The smoke quickly dissipates, flowing back into her eyes as the divine glow fades and retreats, her normal form returning. She is left prone on the ground, shaking with weakness, her face inexplicably shining with gratitude and relief.

He quickly begins to heal her, pouring his power into her to help restore her mana to the point of weakening himself temporarily to see her as fully recovered as he can make her. If she is somehow his vessel, he will not see her fall to the power she holds. As she finally gets some strength back in her limbs, she begins to slowly sit up, letting him aid her with supportive hands until she is sitting up properly, then waving him off.

She takes a few ragged breaths, using one arm to steady herself against the ground. She looks at him and nods, the same nod she always uses to say that she is alright, he can stop worrying. But the truth is, he never stops worrying. It's past time he admitted that to himself. That simple truth is more liberating than he ever imagined. To admit that he cares about her, about another living soul. He is not sure what it will mean in the long run, but there will be a long run, if what she's said is true.

He shakes his head, "How? How did this happen?"

She tries to chuckle, but it ends in a cough that racks her small frame for several moments before she recovers. She takes a few softly rasping breaths before she tries to explain.

"Redcliffe. The red lyrium future. I told you the truth there. Before we came back, you gave me your essence, gave everything, turned to stone, then Dorian pulled me through the portal. I... it would be easier to let him tell you. He's ready now."

He eyes her skeptically, "Did he make you transform to force my hand?"

She chuckles, successfully this time. "No. That was me. You wouldn't believe me if I didn't give proof, and he was being too stubborn to just give himself over. I pushed both of you. Not very smart of me, but here we are."

A pained smile etches itself onto his lips, "Indomitable will, indeed, little wolf. I yield. You have most certainly won this game."

She laughs, "Not yet, I haven't."

Suddenly, she coils and pushes forward, her hands grasping the sides of his face as her lips crash into his, shocking a gasp from him that she takes advantage of to flick her tongue across the tip of his, teasing, demanding as he feels her smile against his lips.

Then, he feels the pull of power as it rushes from her, sliding into him, fixing itself to his soul as a torrent of images flashes through his mind, memories, emotions, agony, bliss, tearing through his senses all at once. The kiss is broken, but he doesn't notice, his mind and soul are overflowing with the power and memories of his own soul but not, one removed and different, but still familiar. It is too much.

He sifts through it all, unable to register everything at first, when at once, he becomes aware that it isn't only his doubles's memories that came across, but hers. Hers, with her memory of the... future? Not the red lyrium future, but the very real future she had lived for over a year; all the memories of the places they'd gone, the wars she'd fought, the Games she had learned to play in various courts, the... kiss stolen in the Fade, the return of it with bold passion.

The love that formed over time, the kiss on the balcony where he warned her that it would be more kind if he left. The fluttering of her heart when he turned back and kissed her with the ferocity of someone who knew he was going to lose her, but wanted to remember those fleeting moments of happiness, knowing it would devastate her, but being too selfish to stop.

He sees her drink of the Well of Sorrows, watches as she is pulled into Uthenera, another place a mortal should never be able to enter, as the voices of eons speak to her, demanding that she bind herself to the service of Mythal for eternity in exchange for their wisdom. She agrees, desperation driving her on. He feels her heart sadden at his disappointed words after they return to _Tarasyl'an Te'las_.

The moment in the grotto, the flow of magic over her face as he removed the vallaslin to see her true beauty... his heart nearly bursts as he sees the adoration in his eyes, behind the reflection of her face. Then, the crushing defeat as he walks away. He watches the memory as she collapses there, she cannot see him anymore, he is gone. She falls to her knees and cries out in wordless agony as the cold reality of truth sets in that he has abandoned her, completely and utterly.

The vision of memory slowly shifts to the defeat of Corypheus, the breaking of his foci, the claim that whatever comes, what they had was real falling on deaf ears. It was too little, too late. The shift to her standing alone on the same balcony they'd kissed on, staring straight ahead at the dawn with coldness in her heart that settles deep in her bones.

The futile searches for him as her advisors look on in pity, giving the searches their best effort because they can see the pain eating at her, chipping away her resolve day by day. She avoids sleep, because sleep will bring the Fade, and the Fade will bring images of him she cannot bear to see, cannot stand to remember, lest her resolve shatter. When her body can no longer stand it, she collapses into her bed and cries herself to sleep, weeping for the void in her chest where her heart should be.

And as she finally jolts awake in the Fade, the scene spills out before her of him approaching Mythal, of her giving her power, such as it is, to him, a second orb of power following quickly and jolting him with the strength of it. He hears his little wolf gasp and sees his Fade vision self turn sharply to look for the source of the sound, but she forces herself awake before his eyes see her. Eyes glowing with the power of divine.

He watches as she deals with the revelation of his identity, feels her wanting to disbelieve it, but slowly putting the facts together, puzzling the pieces until she sees the entire picture. It takes a week, but she finally understands. Where he expects fear or anger, he sees.. elation. Sadness, but understanding. Forgiveness.

She sleeps more soundly now, though she still cries herself to sleep, but it is for missing him, and not for the void that is no longer there. The void that is slowly being replaced by a living, beating heart. Hardened, steeled with resolve, but alive.

She sleeps and wakes, and she is in barred manacles. It all starts again. He watches as the events of the past months fly by, watches as she hides her truth until she cannot hold it any longer. Watches as she first tells Dorian, then him in that horrid future.

Watches as he sacrifices himself and gives himself into her care. Watches as he explains in the void of the time portal what he has done. He understands it now. but he keeps watching as the previous night plays through his mind, showing her Arlathan, his temple, his true form. Kissing her with the love and passion she deserves. Feeling the absence of magic when she wakes and her panicked realization of what the world had lost. Of what he had done. Of what he intended to do.

He sat and watched as it kept playing until the moment she kissed him. It stops.

He gasps for breath, his eyes wide and wild, searching for an anchor as he falls forward on his hands, his fingers digging into the grass and dirt as he re-orients himself to this world. It is almost as painful as the transition she had felt on waking from Arlathan.

He feels a cool hand touch his cheek, and he raises his head to look at her. Her expression is concerned, curious. She doesn't speak, letting her magic speak for her as it reaches out to caress the cheek she isn't touching, displacing the tears that roll down, ones he hadn't even realized he'd shed.

He stares at her, feeling the tendrils of his darkened heart reach out and take root in hers. Feels his soul unravel, as the threads weave themselves into the ragged edges of her own. His words, all of his cleverness, every thought leaves him as he feels the binding take hold, wrenching and pulling him inextricably toward her as he surges forward, gathering her in his arms and crushing his lips to hers, desperately clinging to her as though she is the one thing holding him to the ground at this moment, because she is.

He kisses her with every ounce of passion he can muster, his magic enveloping her and caressing her, letting his emotions flow through it and showing her exactly how much he loves her, how much he desires her, and how completely certain he is that he will never leave her side again.

When he finally breaks apart, reluctantly, for air, he speaks in ancient elvhen, because he knows she will understand now.

"I am so sorry for the pain I put you through, my heart, my desire, my soul. I do not know if you can forgive me, but if you can find it within you to do so, I will never leave your side again. This, I will swear, on any name you choose."

She gives him a happy, but somewhat wicked grin, replying in ancient elvhen, "Swear on none but your own name, Fen'Harel. I bind you to your oath on your own name. It is an oath you can never break, lest you be untrue to yourself."

He rests his forehead on hers, locking his eyes with hers as he replies, "Then I swear on my soul, on my heart, on my desire, and on my name, for they all belong to you."

She smiles, tears tipping over her lashes and down her cheeks. He kisses them away, tasting the salt on his lips as he kisses hers, sealing the oath and the bond. He holds her tightly to him as he presses his forehead to hers gently, their breaths mixing as he softly speaks.

"I love you, little wolf."

She grins, "And I love you, Dread Wolf."


	8. Chapter 8

Translations:

Ma nehn = my joy.

Ma sa'lath/lath = my one (or true) love/love.

Tel'abelas = not sorry.

Ir abelas = very sorry

* * *

><p>She chuckles as they lay side by side in the grass, looking at him curiously.<p>

"So, Fen'Harel. Can you hunt with me now?" An impish smirk dances its way across her face.

His brows crease together, "I am uncertain. I could attempt it, if you like."

She nods, eagerly.

He huffs and sits up, settling himself on his knees and facing her as he summons the magic forth. The smoke is more sluggish than she remembers from the previous night in his temple. But it comes, sweeping out and curling around his limbs and body just as thickly as it had then, until he is awash with it. He leans forward as he transforms, paws meeting ground solidly. He shakes the smoke from his fur and looks at her as if he expects a treat for his performance.

She snickers at his expression, but it is not what has her quirking her head to the side in curiosity.

"You're... smaller than I remember. I wonder if..." she trails off, leaving the thought hanging in the air as she calls her own wolf out, sitting in front of him.

He's still taller than she is, but not by nearly as much as she'd thought he would be. Perhaps his reduced size is a side effect of not having his full power? Or perhaps the Fade version of him was simply exaggerated.

She mentally shrugs, nuzzling under his chin, brushing her fur against his affectionately. It matters little in the grand scheme of things if he is still slightly diminished; they will get his foci back, of this she is confident.

He gently returns her nuzzling motions, though it's slightly awkward for him, as he has to duck down further to actually get under her chin. She gives a rumbling huff of a laugh, licking his nose when he moves out from under her to face her again. He returns the lick and shakes himself free of his wolf form. She follows suit, curious why he changed back.

He is the first to speak, "As much as I would enjoy a hunt, do we not have a battle and a few other confrontations to plan for?"

She tilts her head, "I suppose, though there's really not a lot to discuss regarding Corypheus. I don't wish to interfere with how the battle progresses. I've already altered certain variables slightly to ensure a bit more readiness, I don't think it's a good idea to do more. It could change the battle too much, which would leave us in uncharted territory. The battle is already difficult enough, without added complications."

He nods, "That is wise; however, you now have a more powerful ally in your fight than you had the last time. I could stay and confront the blighted Magister with you, perhaps weaken him, or his dragon enough to retrieve the foci early. It would certainly give us an edge over him."

She shakes her head sharply, "No. Absolutely not."

His eyebrows crease together, "Why? I am aware of how you escape, I can follow you easily."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Fen'harel... _fenedhis_, I'm going to have to keep calling you Solas in mixed company, aren't I?"

His pained half smile is all the response she needs. "Annoying. Anyway, there's several reasons I don't want to have you there to confront him," she begins ticking the reasons off on her fingers, "He will recognize you, I don't want to play that card yet. And I don't want him knowing that you have more power than you had the last time he met you. It's too soon for him to know that. He has your foci. He could easily use your own magic against you, even if he doesn't fully understand it. I won't risk it."

At this, he chuckles.

She raises an eyebrow, "And what is so amusing, dread wolf?"

He grins, "My own magic is exactly the only magic that cannot be used against me. No matter how he may have twisted it, the foci of a god cannot be used to harm the god it belongs to. I am surprised my future self did not share that information with you, but it is time you knew. Corypheus poses a threat to this world, it is true, and he could use other methods than my foci to bring harm to me. But they would pale in comparison to the damage the foci of another god could do to me, for instance. I am safe from him, in this case, at least."

"Perhaps," she pauses, remembering that Corypheus is not the only threat to come to the field tonight, "But his dragon could harm you, as surely as it could harm me. You are not immune to dragons, _ma vhenan_.

He nods, "True enough, though it is a slight risk, which I am willing to take in order to regain my foci. I do not know how he survived activating it, but it will obey me, now that it is active. He will not be able to resist, and once I have it, controlling the dragon will be a pittance."

She sits in the grass and sighs, "You do realize this is exactly what I meant by changing the course of the battle, right? If you have your foci, it would be a simple task for us to dispose of the dragon and Corypheus right then and there. You saw how I defeated him before. With his dragon dead and your foci lost to him, he's left to his own power, which I've already defeated once. It would completely change events as I know them."

He joins her on the ground and tilts his head, expression confused, "Would his defeat not be a good thing? It would certainly be better than waiting around for the inevitable final battle. A great many lives are put at risk with his very existence. Surely it would be better to wipe him out now, saving those lives?"

She huffs in frustration, "Look into my memories, Solas. Look at the alliances made, the empires stabilized, the people we do save, the good we do. Thedas is a better place by the time you left us last time. Far better than it is right now. Would you begrudge this world that chance to right itself, with our help?

"Dispatching with Corypheus now would mean the Inquisition never even makes it to_ Tarasyl'an Te'las_, never even truly realizes its full potential. And if you still do plan to remove the veil at some point and release that which you imprisoned, which version of Thedas would be able to accept such a thing more easily? The version we know now, or the version with the Inquisition restoring order everywhere? While I understand your reasons for suggesting it, if we alter the time line this drastically, I do not believe Thedas would become a place worth inhabiting."

He shakes his head, "You cannot know that for certain. No-one can. The Inquisition could easily carry on to do the same amount of good, whether Corypheus is dead or alive."

She blinks owlishly at him, "Solas, I have _lived_ this. I know how this goes, in case you'd somehow forgotten. You've had your chance to play it your way once already. Let me play it my way. Once I get the foci from him in the end, I will give it to you. You will be at my side. I will not be so careless this time. And once this is all over with, I will go with you to whatever mission you chose to take on. They won't need me to close rifts anymore, and I can keep in touch by raven. Patience, _ma vhenan_. This will work out for the best."

She reaches for his hands and clasps his in hers, squeezing gently and smiling in reassurance. She watches as he thinks it through, his emotions plain on his face. Frustration, impatience, reluctance, a struggle with himself until he finally looks her in the eyes and finds acceptance.

He sighs, his head bowing slightly, "Very well, little wolf. We will play this your way. And do not worry abut Cole. I can speak with him, show him what is at stake. Spirits, even ones as complex as he is, are things I understand. I can bring him up to speed quickly. He should not pose a problem after that. I assume you will be notifying Dorian of what has happened?"

She nods, "Yes, as soon as I get back. Knowing Dorian, he won't rest until I tell him."

They chuckle together, and she can't help but feel the elation of being with him again, of not having any barriers or lies this time. It is wonderful to be able to start again with a clean slate. Perhaps she will even learn to trust him properly, as time goes on. She has more than enough time now to find out. Knowing she has this much time is... intoxicating. She wishes she had more time _now_ to sit and talk with him; she has so many questions to ask, so much catching up to do. But the position of the sun gives her the time as mid-afternoon, and she is on a time table she cannot disobey.

She smiles ruefully, "We must go, dread wolf. Would you like to join me to speak with Dorian? After, it will be time to seal the Breach. The first time, at least."

He nods, "I would like that. Perhaps he and I can coexist more peacefully this time. I seem to recall some memories of yours that indicate we were... slightly antagonistic toward each other."

She laughs, "Just slightly? If you weren't talking about magical theory or the Qun, you were nearly at each others' throats. Misunderstandings and differences in culture, mostly. He means well, but he's from a different society. He tries to reach out to you several times, but his attempts are sadly lacking in tact on several occasions. The ire he raised in you didn't help matters."

"Ah, well, I shall attempt to be more open-minded concerning him, then. He seems to be someone of great importance to you, if your feelings in your memories are any indication."

She smiles fondly, "Yes, Dorian is a true friend. I never would have expected an Altus from Tevinter to be such a steadfast and loyal ally, but he is. He will defend any of us to the death, by the end. I value his advice and his friendship. It is... precious to me."

He raises an eyebrow, "Should I be jealous, _ma vhenan_? I am sure you know that wolves do not share their mates."

She blushes, but shakes her head, "No, _ma nehn_, there is no danger there. He exclusively prefers the company of men, in that manner, at least. It won't stop us from flirting constantly, but it's just playful banter, no more."

Understanding spread across his face, "Ah, I see. Then I shall endeavor not to make an ass of myself with any jealous feelings your banter might incur."

She gives a coy smile and leans in, settling on her knees, her face inches from his. "There is no need to be jealous, _ma nehn_," she cups his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs and brushing her lips against his, then slowly moving her lips to his ear, "My heart will never belong to any but Fen'harel. And I know he is a jealous god, I have always known this. Which is why my soul has never sung the praise of any other god. I would not allow it, no matter the ridicule, no matter the false tales, no matter the fear and hatred he was wrongly given, I knew there was more to the dread wolf. And I knew, deep in my soul, that one day he would come to me, and show me what it meant to truly be alive."

She moves back to his lips, whispering the last words before pressing her kiss to his mouth, "_And I was right_."

He growls, reaching for her and pulling her to him, settling her to straddle his lap as he deepens the kiss, his arms enfolding her and caressing her hungrily. Her heart trips over itself to catch up to the rapture she feels at being so wholly accepted into his embrace, as a deeper understanding of how much he'd been holding back before permeates her senses. She makes a small, pitiful sound into his mouth as she's overwhelmed by how deeply rooted the transformation is.

The short, fleeting moments they'd shared before pale in comparison as his magic flows over and through her, Fade touching where his hands are absent, nearly to the point of over-stimulation, but not quite. He holds her there, right on the edge of the knife, never pushing down or pulling back, but keeping her in exquisitely blissful torture. It is transcendent.

She regrets it more deeply than she feels she ever could before when she has to pull away for air. Gasping, she meets his eyes with lustful wonderment. His magic slowly retreats, though he holds her gaze with equally lustful hunger. She feels his magic's absence in her very bones.

"That," she takes another harried breath, "was amazing."

His wolfish grin is more than enough to tell her he is enjoying himself immensely, "It was meant to be. I can teach you to do that to me, with practice. I have apparently been waiting a long time to show that to you. I am sorry I could not show you sooner."

She shakes her head, then presses her forehead to his, "You've shown me now. That is what matters. This is a second chance for us, and I, for one, will not waste it."

He smiles, capturing her lips in a quick kiss before he backs up slightly and speaks, "Nor will I. I... must ask, the vallaslin, do you wish to keep it? I saw you ask for its removal last time. I will not press the issue, if you wish to keep it."

She quirks her head slightly, fascinated that he would give her the choice to keep it again. But she is curious. "I know the answer, but they are your marks. I am curious what you would prefer."

He raises an eyebrow in surprise, "It may be my mark, _vhenan_, but it does not belong on your face. You are not, nor have you ever been, my slave. You might not have my power, but in every other way you are my equal now. And the marks we have placed on each other are much deeper than any blood writing or anchor could ever be. If you wish to remove your vallaslin again, I will gladly do it for you."

She smiles, nodding softly, "Yes. Cast your spell, Fen'harel. Free one more slave."

Sadness and recognition, then a small joy flash through his eyes as he holds her gaze. Lifting his hands to perform the same spell he'd done before, he gently feathers his hands over her face as the magic lifts the blood writing from her skin as if it had never been there to begin with.

A small, almost subtle gasp issues from him, the word breathed like a prayer when he utters it, "Beautiful."

She smiles and blushes, curling her hands over his bare head and placing a kiss on his forehead, then cheeks, then lips.

"Thank you,_ ma nehn_."

His smile is peaceful. "You are more than welcome, _ma_ _sa'lath_. Thank you for allowing it."

She smiles, nodding.

Something catches her attention as she strokes his head: stubble. She raises an eyebrow, looking him in the eyes as a question bubbles over her lips.

"So you do shave it. I always wondered. A part of the deception of Pride, I assume?"

He hums, "Partly. It is also a matter of convenience. When one is an apostate wandering the wilderness, there is not much call for a mirror, or room in packs for a fragile item such as a comb. I could grow it out, if you prefer. It will not effect my cover very much for those that I still need to maintain it with."

Her eyes grow wide as he mentions growing his hair out, her head beginning to nod even before he finishes speaking.

"Yes, if it's alright. What I saw of it in Arlathan was... very interesting." her crooked smile betrays exactly _how_ interesting.

He chuckles, "Very well."

He waves his hand over his head, casting some form of magic that is neither modern nor divine, and she watches as his hair slowly begins to grow, the wisps of magic teasing the hair to lengthen gently. By the time he lowers his hand, he is the spitting image of the elf she saw in Arlathan, but the hair is laying gently to the right side of his head, rather than tied back.

She threads her fingers through the rich brown tresses; in which she can see auburn highlights, thanks to the sun shining on it now. She leans forward to bury her face in his hair, inhaling deeply and memorizing the scent, the feel of the strands against her skin, the entire moment.

"_Ma lath_."

She barely manages a reply, her mind consumed and distracted as it is, "Hmm?"

His voice is amused, "If you still wish to go speak to Dorian, you may wish to cease the utterly delicious motions of your hips, lest I decide to reciprocate."

She freezes. She hadn't realized she'd been moving... that part of her body.

"I... um, sorry," she leans back and releases his hair, reluctantly.

He grins, "_Tel'abelas, ma lath_. I cannot be jealous of something that excites you so, when it is a part of me."

She grins, her blush rising high on her cheeks and spreading to the tips of her ears, which flick involuntarily, trying to rid themselves of the overly warm sensation. She leans down and claims his mouth sweetly with her own, lingering there for a few moments. She pulls away, giving a sad smile.

"We should go, _ma vhenan_," she uses his shoulders as leverage with her hands as she pushes herself out of his lap, then offers him a hand up in turn.

He takes it and hoists himself up, smiling as he stands and turning her hand to plant a kiss on her wrist.

She smiles and turns, calling her wolf forward as she falls, hearing him follow quickly as they bolt out of the clearing on swift legs, racing to the edge of the forest. He could easily beat her, but he holds back. She notices and nips at him teasingly, watching with pride as he launches forward and reaches the forest edge far before her. He waits until she joins him, and when they both shake themselves free of their wolf forms, they laugh together.

It's then that a thought strikes her. The thought turns into an idea and takes root.

"_Ma sa'lath_, I just had a thought," she takes his arm as they step out into the light of the afternoon sun.

"And that would be?" he bends the arm she's taken and lays his hand over hers, gently stroking her skin.

"Well, I was reminded of the elvhen warriors who would fight with wolves at their sides... Why couldn't we do that? We could use our wolf forms as a disguise amongst the _shems_. Or, at least I could. Yours would need some... modifying to pass as a normal wolf. And of course, it wouldn't be exactly the same thing as those ancient warriors, but at least there's an historical precedent for such a bond to form."

He smirks, "And how would you propose we do this? The disguise, that is. My form can be easily adjusted as you suggest."

"Well," she snugs herself closer to him, leaning in as they walk in a conspiratorial manner, "you could be in wolf form and walk beside me, and if anyone asks, I could easily say you protected me from a rabid member of your pack and followed me home."

He laughs, "I am not sure how believable that would be, _ma lath_. And what if you were the wolf?"

She scoffs, "It would be plenty believable. As for the reverse situation, you could simply claim that I came up to you in the woods and became attached to you. Or that I was a friendly spirit that had taken wolf form. It's hardly the least believable thing you've claimed that everyone believed with little questioning."

He concedes this with a nod, "True enough. Shall we test this idea of yours, then?"

She stops in her tracks, startled by the suggestion, "What, _now_?"

He smiles, "Why not? We may as well see if the idea has merit. The templars will not be able to detect it as magic, since magic is only used at the beginning and end of the transformation, and it is such an ancient form of magic that most mages of this age would not know it if it stared them in the face. If it works, it could be useful."

She considers it. They are still far enough from any prying eyes to not have been spotted by anyone, so they have the advantage of privacy for the moment. "Who would be the wolf? And you realize we can't just switch back and forth between us; people would get suspicious if we suddenly both had canine companions, at different times. It would be an impossible ruse to keep up with. To be honest, I'm not even sure it is a ruse we could keep up at all. It could get complicated."

"Not if it's claimed as a spirit. They might question a spirit more at first, but if it were not present at random, that would not be questioned nearly as much as if it were an actual animal. Spirits have their own ambitions, and do not often stay in one place for long unless they chose to."

She huffs, blowing loose hairs out of her face, "Still, I'm not sure we can sustain it. Someone will eventually go looking for one of us while we're in wolf form and find us missing."

He shakes his head, "Not if I am the wolf. You are the only one that ever seeks me out."

She blinks, "Really? That's... surprising. Still, I think if anyone were to figure it out, Leliana would. And since her station is directly above yours in _Tarasyl'an Te'las_, it would be difficult to hide it."

He chuckles, "You give me too little credit, _ma lath_. I kept my identity a secret from all of you for a over a year, did I not? If I managed that without trouble, I imagine I can handle this much smaller deception."

She raises an eyebrow, "True enough. I do admit, I wonder a bit at your willingness to add this to your games. Will this not make things more unnecessarily difficult?"

He laughs, "Have you forgotten who I am, little wolf? I delight in games like these. Worry not, it will be a simple matter to keep them off my tail."

She sighs, reaching up to trail her fingers through his hair once more, leaning up to kiss him quickly.

"No, I have not forgotten, dread wolf. Very well, which story shall we go with?"

He leans down and nuzzles into her neck, arms encircling her loosely, "I am a spirit of peace that came to you in the form of a wolf. Not possessing one, mind you. It will help them accept Cole more readily if they have more than one example of such a spirit."

He backs up form her, waving his hand toward her, "Now change, I will need to study your wolf for a few moments to copy the form and size correctly."

"Oh. Alright," she calls her wolf forth, walking up to him as he moves to sit on a flat rock.

He watches her carefully, extending his hand in invitation. She nuzzles into his hand, earning a smile. He moves his fingers through her fur, feeling the thickness of it, the texture. His hands curl over her ears, tracing the edges until she flicks them and shakes her head. He chuckles and moves on, down her back to her tail, which he studies for a moment. His next field of study are her legs and paws, which he gently lifts, one after the other, to look at her claws. When he moves to her head again, he starts to lift her lip to look at her teeth, but she snorts and opens her mouth, curling her lips and tilting her head to give him a better view.

He nods, "Please turn 'round for me a few times. I should be done after that."

She complies, wonder piercing her thoughts at how quickly he must learn forms if this is all he needs. She gives him an extra turn in the opposite direction for good measure, then shakes her wolf form off.

She watches as he transforms in the same way she does, forgoing the divine power he holds. She wonders if the divine form only has the one version. Perhaps it is like the dragon transformations of the other gods, but his form is a wolf instead? She resolves to ask him about it later.

He tilts his head at her. She reaches out and scratches behind his ear. He did manage to get rather close to her own form, though it is still a touch larger than hers, and the eyes are still the color of his elvhen eyes.

She chuckles, "You're still bigger than me."

He huffs, shaking himself as he shrinks slightly. It takes a moment for the form to solidify, but once it does, it is nearly a replica of her wolf form.

She nods her approval, "Very good. The only way anyone will notice a difference between you and I in wolf form is by eye color."

He whines, then nudges her insistently.

"What? I can't read your mind, I'm not Cole."

He huffs, giving her the most frustrated, deadpan look he can manage in wolf form.

She snorts, "Well I get that you're frustrated, but that's not hard to tell. What, you want me to go wolf again or something?"

He nods.

"Oh," she changes quickly, facing him and sitting, head tilted curiously. She watches as he looks at her closely, then blinks slowly, his lids lifting to reveal the same green eyes that she looks out from.

She shakes herself free of her wolf and nods, "Good. I doubt anyone would notice the difference besides us now."

He doesn't change back to respond.

She cocks her head at him curiously, "Are you going to stay like that for now, then?"

He nods again.

She chuckles and shakes her head, "Alright then. We'd better go, if we want to get in a talk with Dorian before the Breach."

They head out in companionable silence toward Haven's gates, reaching the soldier's training camp in good time. When they move near Cullen, he stops her.

"Herald what-" he cuts himself off, peering at her carefully. It takes a few moments for him to form the words properly, "What happened to your markings?

She shrugs, "I'm surprised you saw them in the first place, as faint as they were; let alone noticed their absence. But, in answer to your question, I removed them."

He raises an eyebrow, "How? I thought they were... well, permanent?"

She shakes her head, "Magic is used to create them, magic can be used to remove them. I decided that if I am to have a new life here, then I should accept it and not be held back by my past life. There is no point in looking back now, aside from to learn from mistakes made."

He seems pensive at her bold statement, and she realizes too late that he must be weighing what she'd said against his own past.

"But, that's just my personal opinion on my own situation. And you must admit, it is... unique," she quickly added, hoping to soothe him a bit.

He nods, slowly, "I can imagine it is a comfort to come to such a conclusion. A pity not all things can be left behind so simply."

She smiles sadly, "I never said it was simple. But yes, it is a pity."

His gaze slid to the wolf beside her, his brow furrowing and eyes widening in alarm, "Are you aware that there's a wolf beside you?"

He eyes the wolf with suspicion.

She smiles, "Yes, I am. We met on one of my walks a week or so ago. This time, it decided to follow me home. It's docile enough, I don't think it would bother anyone," she chuckles, "Except me, perhaps."

He gives her a surprised look, "Are you certain? Wild wolves are not known for their docile natures, even once domesticated."

"Perhaps they aren't, but this isn't just a wolf. It's a spirit of peace, and I think as long as it's introduced to everyone properly, it should be alright."

"A spirit? So it's a demon?" he asks with alarm.

She sighs, "No, it's not a demon. It's a spirit that's manifested itself willfully in a physical form. It sensed my desire to promote peace in this world and was drawn to our cause. It just wants to help."

He creases his brows, "Are you certain it isn't a demon? It could have tricked you."

She pins him with a glare, her lips pursed with annoyance, "Cullen, I'm a mage, remember? I know the difference. The Dalish have a version of the harrowing your circles use, though it's far less brutal and the mages being tested are far more prepared for it than the ones in the circle. I know the difference between a spirit that means no harm and a demon that wants to possess a body. This spirit didn't possess a wolf, it manifested itself _as_ a wolf. A demon wouldn't have the purity to be able to take on such a form without possession. Test it, if you must, though I would rather you didn't, considering how much damage that will do to it."

He shakes his head, "No, I... I believe you. If it truly does wish to help us, I would not wish it harm. It's simply... unusual."

"These are unusual times. And, really, it's not so unusual. In the times of the ancient elvhen, there were many warriors that had wolf companions. They fought, ate, and lived together in perfect harmony. I think it is rather fitting that it chose the form of a wolf, considering the history.

He eyebrows raise in surprise, "I had no idea. That is an interesting bit of history. I suppose it does make sense, in a way."

She smiles, nodding, "You should introduce yourself. Hold your hand out, let it smell you. You're armored, so no need to fear a bite."

He hesitates, but soon relents, "If you insist," he sticks his hand out, "I would rather it be tested on myself than on one of our less armored compatriots."

Fen'harel sniffs Cullen's hand and rests his muzzle on his fingers, wagging his tail and looking up at Cullen.

Cullen chuckles, scratching under Fen'harel's chin, "Well, it seems friendly, I'll give you that much. Just take precautions. I will let our Spy-master and Seeker know as well."

She nods, smiling, "Thank you. I have to go talk to Dorian, but I'll let them meet it after."

He nods and lets his hand fall back to his side, "Good. Does it speak?"

She shakes her head, "Not since it took on this form. It seemed to believe the sacrifice necessary in order to aid our cause."

He rests his hands in their customary position, on his sword's pommel, "Rather noble of it to make such a sacrifice."

She smiles, "I thought so. It can still understand what we say, though."

He looks at Fen'harel, "Then you have my gratitude, spirit. We appreciate whatever aid you can render. Though you should know, we will all be watching you carefully."

Fen'harel bows his head gently, then nudges Lavellan.

"Ah, yes. We should be going. Please do let Leliana and Cassandra know, I will do my best to inform the others. I'm sure Leliana will tell Josie," she pauses, "Actually, perhaps you should let her know as well. I wouldn't wish to spring it on her. Leliana has enough to worry about without having to explain it to Josie while she's still trying to understand it herself."

Cullen gives a small bow, "Of course, Herald. Good luck with the Breach."

She returns the bow, "Thank you, Cullen."

She moves on quickly, walking through the gates and up the steps. Varric is nowhere to be seen, so she heads past the tavern to Dorian's house instead.

She knocks on the door, and Dorian replies from inside, "Come in!"

She opens the door and waits for Fen'harel, then comes in herself before closing it behind them, "Dorian, I don't want to startle you, but there's a friendly wolf with me."

"A _what_?" his incredulous voice replies, soon after followed by his head peeking around the half wall between them, his eyes locked on Fen'harel.

"A friendly wolf," she edges closer to him, lowering her voice, "It's Fen- I mean, Solas," she sighs, "I really have to get used to saying that."

Dorian moves out from behind the wall slowly, eyes still on Fen'harel, "So... what, is this his fabled wolf form?"

She laughs, "Not quite. That... well, that's actually my wolf form."

He finally rips his eyes away from Fen'harel to focus on her, "_Yours_? And when were you going to share this juicy little tidbit, exactly? Also, what's different about you? Something's... off."

She shrugs, "Now? It hadn't really come up before this. And you're seeing my bare face. No vallaslin. Solas removed it."

He crosses his arms, lips drawn into a thin line, "Did you want him to do that?"

She smiles, "Yes, I did. In Arlathan, vallaslin were slave markings. He removed them last time, too; at my request, once I knew."

Dorian hums, "Well as long as it's what you wanted. I can understand not wanting that kind of stigma, so good for you, I suppose."

She nods, "Yes, it is good. I am free."

Dorian sighs, seeming to accept her answer with a small smile.

"Well, come on then," he waves one arm at her, then returns it to its crossed position, "show me this wolf form of yours. May as well get it all out now."

She smirks and moves back next to Fen'harel, calling her wolf out and sitting next to her twin, mirroring him.

Dorian's eyes widen, his jaw dropping slightly before he closes it with an audible click, "Maker's balls, you weren't joking, were you?"

He takes a few cautious steps towards them, squinting at them both in turn, "You really are identical. How did you manage that, I wonder? And who did you learn this magic from?"

She looks at Fen'harel and nods her head toward Dorian, shaking herself free of her wolf as Fen'harel follows suit.

"Andraste's tits! You have hair!" Dorian exclaims, his face a mixture of shock and curiosity as he stares at Fen'harel.

Fen'harel chuckles, "I have always had hair. I simply shaved it."

Dorian looks at him in wonder, "But why? It looks so much better like this."

Fen'harel shrugs, "Mostly convenience. Living as I have for many years alone and wandering does not lend itself well to caring for copious amounts of hair for the sake of vanity alone."

Dorian hums, then points at them both in turn, "Alright, tell me about this wolfy thing. Him I understand knowing how, but you," he points at Lavellan, "I had no idea you could do it. Who taught you?"

She smirks, "A witch of the wilds. Her name is Morrigan. You'll meet her fairly soon. She taught me after I begged her younger self to in a chance meeting when I was a child. But I am curious, would you like to see the real dread wolf in his natural form?"

Dorian raises an eyebrow, "Perhaps. Exactly how dreadful is this form that earns it that name?"

She chuckles, "It's... not his form that earned him the name. Not really. Though it is a bit... different than a regular wolf. But he's a god, so that's to be expected."

Dorian snugs his arms tighter around himself; his voice tight, hesitant as he speaks, "Alright then, show me."

Fen'harel nods and casts his spell, falling forward and shaking the divine smoke from his fur. He takes a few steps towards Dorian, then sits.

Dorian eyes him suspiciously, then looks to Lavellan, "That's... interesting. Six eyes? How... he's not going to eat me, is he? I mean he's still... _him_, right?"

Before she has a chance to answer, Fen'harel huffs and moves the last step to Dorian, nudging the necromancer's hand with his nose gently, then sitting once more. Dorian manages not to flinch.

He does look down at Fen'harel with apprehension, however, "Very reassuring."

He looks back up at Lavellan with a raised brow.

She smiles and nods encouragingly, "Go ahead, he won't bite unless you do something incredibly stupid, which I somehow doubt you'd do anyway."

"Such as?"

She snorts, "Put yourself in his place and imagine what might cause you to actually bite someone. Whatever it is, don't do it and you should be fine."

He slowly reaches out, pressing his forefinger forward and gently poking Fen'harel on the bridge of his nose, before retreating quickly.

Lavellan laughs, Fen'harel joining her with a few rumbling huffs.

"What?" Dorian asks indignantly, "That was the one thing I could think of that would be relatively safe for someone to do to me if I were in... his position."

She sighs and walks over to Fen'harel, sliding her hand up behind his ear and scratching as he leans into the attention. She looks at Dorian pointedly.

"Well of course you can do that, you're like him."

She raises an incredulous eyebrow, "Exactly in what way am I like him, other than being elvhen?"

"Well there's that, and you're both immortal, and you can both change into wolves, and there's also the bonus that he actually likes you. He barely knows me."

She nods thoughtfully, "Point taken. However, you have been invited to pet him, should you desire, and he does know you. As well as I do, at least."

Dorian looks at her with alarm, "How? We've barely spoken two words to one another."

At that, Fen'harel shakes free of his wolf form and answers for her, "When she transfered my red lyrium future essence to me, the memories he had seen in her mind came with him. I now know what she knows of the future."

Dorian scoffed, "Well that's a handy trick. Too bad you couldn't do it for me, it would've saved a lot of sneaking about, not to mention a lyrium potion."

"It can be done," Fen'harel answers, "Once I get my foci back. Then again, by that point, it will hardly matter."

Dorian's brow creases as he begins to pace, slowly, "It takes that long to get it back, then?"

Lavellan nods, "Yes. Last time, it was destroyed through carelessness. This time, Solas will be there to keep that from happening."

He stops, turning to her sharply, "What if that's it?"

"What if what's it?"

He shakes his finger at her excitedly, "The foci being destroyed, what if that is what sent you back?"

She shakes her head, "No, I was sent back weeks later. Though I suppose it could've been as an eventual result of the foci being destroyed, but I don't see how."

Fen'harel speaks up, "I believe I can answer that. If what I saw in your memory is a true account of what you witnessed in the Fade - my theft of Mythal's power - it is entirely possible that I sent you back to do precisely as you have done, as well as to retrieve my foci. I cannot know this for certain, but with enough power, it would be possible. It would be even more likely, if I found that I did not have enough power to complete my mission."

Dorian hums, "I hate to admit it, but that does sound plausible enough. But is it a one-way trip? Could she be pulled back into that future once she obtains the foci?"

Fen'harel shakes his head, "No," he turns to her, "The second orb essence I saw in your Fade vision, it was not Mythal. That was from her grandson, yes?"

She nods, "I believe so. He was the vessel for the soul of an archdemon named Urthemiel, the one that heralded the fifth blight. He gave it to Mythal before we defeated Corypheus. Why do you ask?"

"Because that would indeed give me the power to send you back. It is likely that I returned to _Tarasyl'an Te'las _the night you came back and cast the spell. It would fit."

Dorian pipes up, "But why not send yourself back? Couldn't you have done that and gotten your foci yourself? And what's this tarasylantelas?"

Fen'harel shakes his head, "No. Gods cannot travel time themselves. We can send others back in time, but we are fixed, stuck. And it takes a great deal of power to send another back, power we do not get back without our foci. So, as I am sure you can imagine, we do not do it without foci, as I did, unless the situation is dire. It is likely, if that future even exists anymore, that I am either dead, or captured and powerless. As to _Tarasyl'an Te'las_, it is the place we flee to after Haven is rendered uninhabitable by Corypheus. You will see soon enough."

Dorian raises an eyebrow, "Powerless? You wouldn't even have magic? And I look forward to it. I think."

"I doubt I would have any magic left, unless the second essence carried a great deal more power than I believe it would. Even if it did, I would still be greatly diminished, beyond how I was when I woke from Uthenera."

Dorian gives a low whistle, "Andraste's knickers, it must take a lot more power than I thought to send someone through time, then. It's no wonder Alexius needed that amulet to be so charged to pull it off. I don't even want to think of how many people Corypheus gave him to sacrifice for that damned trinket to work."

"It is more likely that he charged it with my foci. A god's foci can be used to create smaller foci that are safe for mortals to use. If Corypheus had understood the power of my foci better, he could even have made the amulet's magic stable, instead of creating utter chaos and ripping a hole in time. It is actually fortunate that he did not, as he could have succeeded in wiping Fen'da'len from time if he had."

Dorian focuses on Lavellan with a smirk, "Just how lucky are you, exactly? There seems to be as much stacked for you as there is against you. Especially this time around, I would imagine. I'm definitely going to stick close to you, maybe some of that luck will rub off on me."

Lavellan chuckles, "You've got plenty of your own luck, Dorian. Besides, I wouldn't want my bad luck rubbing off on you too. Not that I don't want you sticking around, mind you. Who would I have to pull my ass out of the fire if you weren't around?"

Dorian points at Fen'harel, "Him, for one. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that he's more than eager to protect your oh, so flammable ass."

She blushes, embarrassment clouding her features, "What makes you say that?"

Dorian chuckles darkly, "Well, the fact that you're blushing spells it out pretty well, my dear. But beyond that, he hasn't left your side for much longer than it took to show me his... god-wolf-thing, and he's been slowly moving closer and closer to you ever since then. He thinks he's subtle. He's not. He's in love."

Lavellan and Fen'harel glance at each other, sharing a quiet smile before he looks at Dorian and shrugs, "I have no desire to deny it."

Dorian clicks his tongue sharply, "Oh, get a room. You both need it. And from what she told me of that past year of her life, she needs it more than you. And you owe her. Also, god or no, if you dash her heart to pieces again, I will find you, and I will torment you in any way I can until I feel you've suffered enough to pay for your mistake. Which will likely be never. So don't do that, I get bored easily."

Fen'harel smirks, "Noted. You are a brave friend for caring enough to threaten me on her behalf. Foolish, but brave. Either way, it will not be needed. Circumstances have changed now. I will have no need to leave her side."

Dorian huffs, obviously slighted by the 'foolish' remark, "Well, I may be foolish, but I know what it's like to be slighted. I don't wish that on her. I hope you're being genuine."

Fen'harel nods appreciatively, "I do not wish it on her either. Believe what you will, but I am being genuine in this. She has my oath, one I cannot break. It is exceedingly rare for me to swear an oath to anyone; in fact, I can only recall doing it twice before."

Dorian is swift to inquire, "And did you break either of them?"

Fen'harel's expression is pensive, "The first I kept. The second... we shall see what the future holds. I do not have any wish to break it, but whether I do will depend on a great many things, none of which I can predict with any accuracy at this time."

Lavellan nods in understanding, "The second is to reverse your past actions."

"It is. As I said, we shall see. There may be a time in the future when it is more feasible to do so than it is now. But if such a time arrives, I would face it with you at my side."

She smiles and threads her fingers between his, "Together."

He returns her smile and gently squeezes her hand, "Together."

A groan from Dorian has them both turning their gazes to him.

"Seriously, get your own room. You two are so sweet it's sickening. And a little frightening."

Lavellan quirks her eyebrow, "Frightening? How so?"

Dorian looks to have bitten into an unripe fruit as he speaks, "You're both so... one. A united front, a single entity. It's as if you're no longer two individuals. It's both morbidly fascinating and highly disturbing to watch. A bit like a beheading, or a hanging, really."

Lavellan grimaces, "That's... more than a little creepy that you're equating us to gruesome images of death, Dorian."

Dorian huffs, "Perhaps I'm explaining it wrong, it's-"

"Like watching the hand of fate intervene and knowing you can do nothing to stop it, but being overwhelmed and stunned by it all the same," Fen'harel interrupted, casting a small smirk in Dorian's direction.

"Not how I would've put it, but close enough, I suppose," he replied, shrugging.

She grins, "It is what it is. I, for one, am glad for it. I have felt wrong for a long time. This feels _right_."

Dorian gives her a small smile, "Well, I wish you happiness. And I hope you're right about him. Tear stains down the front of my robe isn't a good look, and I'm afraid I don't know how to comfort a crying woman."

She shakes her head, "No, Dorian. I never burdened you with that. That's not anyone's burden but my own."

Fen'harel puts his arm around her shoulders, "It is not a burden anyone will have to carry again, if I have anything to do with it."

Dorian eyes him skeptically, "Let's hope so," he sighs, his expression turning to determination, "Well, I believe our next task is sealing the Breach, is it not? Then dealing with this Corypheus individual."

She nods, "Yes, though we'll encounter Cole just before Corypheus reaches us. Solas says he has a solution for that issue, though."

"Yes, I believe that will be well in hand by the time it matters. Actually, there is a possibility I could reach him in the Fade before he appears here. It would preempt any issues once he reaches us, if possible."

She considers the idea, nodding as she decides, "Yes. I could help you, even. It would take less time to find him and explain if we were both searching."

Fen'harel raises an eyebrow as he looks at her, "Are you certain you have enough control for a search like this? I would not be able to wait for you."

She rolls her eyes slightly, pursing her lips, "Yes, I'm certain. You won't have to wait for anyone."

He raises both eyebrows in surprise, "_Ir abelas_, I had not realized you were that skilled."

She chuckles, "Only thanks to you. I had some experience before I met you last time, but you taught me much, once you discovered I was a dreamer. By the time you left, I could view memories in the Fade with almost as much clarity as you do."

Dorian interjects, clearing his throat to get their attention, "If you're both going into the Fade, I would like to observe in the waking world. I could wake you if too much time passes. You do intend to seal the Breach today, yes?"

"Of course. It was nearly evening when we did it last time, and Corypheus didn't appear until late in the night. But it would be good to have someone awake to make sure we didn't linger too long."

She moves forward and sits on the floor, motioning Fen'harel toward her, "Come. I don't know that marvelous little sleep spell you always use. Let's get this done so we have one less thing to worry about."

Fen'harel chuckles as he moves to sit next to her, turning to her as he speaks, "It is not a complex spell, I am surprised I never taught it to you."

She smiles sadly, "Well, you weren't exactly forthcoming with the spell you used to take my vallaslin either. Or with anything else odd that you said or did, for that matter."

He has the decency to look cowed at her chastisement, "I am sorry, _ma sa'lath_. I had reason to be secretive then. I do not now. I will teach you all you wish to know."

She smiles and reaches out to squeeze his arm gently, "I look forward to it. For now, let's get on with it."

He sighs and lays back, watching as she settles in next to him.

Dorian grabs a book and sits in a chair nearby, sparing them a glance before he sets the book open on his lap, his eyes drawn down to it, "Sleep well, dearies. I'll wake you in a few hours."

She smiles, "Thank you, Dorian."

Fen'harel reaches over, sliding his hand gently over her cheek as his palm glows softly. By the time he leans down to kiss her forehead, she is fast asleep, racing toward the Fade.


End file.
